


Wild Card

by AnotherGallavichLove



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Artist!Mickey, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Rimming, Sexual Tension, Spanking, Teasing, punk!mandy, punk!mickey, tags might be added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 05:03:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5899270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherGallavichLove/pseuds/AnotherGallavichLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian found himself looking straight into a pair of bright, piercing blue eyes, although he couldn’t quite decide whether they were creepy or beautiful. He’d probably go with creepy for now.</p><p>There was a rim of black around them, and Ian forced himself to momentarily forget the fact that he found eyeliner on a guy extremely hot. This was not the time. Besides, this guy seemed to be nothing but a complete asshole so far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to the Tribe

The second that Ian pulled up to the house, the beat of his heart turned ever so slightly more irregular. The wooden building was beautiful, although so much bigger than any of the pictures he had been sent.

 

Once he had first decided to move out of the Gallagher household, Fiona had just frowned and waved him off, telling him that he needed to stay at least until he went off to college. The problem, though, was that Ian wasn’t even sure that he wanted to go to college - even if he were to get in, which he honestly doubted.

 

He didn’t want to wait to grow up and start his own life just because he may or may not choose to further his education. He was eighteen years old, for fucks sakes. He had a job, and his meds had been working wonders in the past few months, so the way he saw it, there was really no reason for him to hold off on moving out of that house.

 

Besides, with Fiona’s husband Gus moving in with them, things were starting to get a little bit more crowded. On top of that, Carl was bringing boyfriends and girlfriends home all the time, Debbie was growing more and more, just like Liam. Every single one of the Gallagher kids were starting to crave more space, and Ian moving out would give all of them just that.

 

It had taken Ian quite a few weeks and a ton of failed interviews before he had finally found somewhere to live - being that he had to have a roommate, otherwise he would never be able to afford living on his own.

 

He had to admit, when he had first read ’9 roommates’, he had almost chuckled, his head shaking from side to side as he had kept clicking through the ads. However, he had somehow kept coming back to that one page and realized that yes, there were nine other people living in the house, but it was a huge fucking house. He’d probably almost get the space he’d have in his own apartment, only much cheaper. And a shared kitchen, of course.

 

Ian had held off on it, let the thought stew inside of his brain for almost a week before he had lastly typed out an email and sent it to the girl who had put the ad out. She had responded within the hour, and they had continued talking back and forth about everything from rent to the few house rules that she and the rest of the people had all set up together.

 

So here he was, another week later, looking up at a house that was probably three or four times the size of the one he had grown up in. Now he was honestly starting to get kind of scared. As much space as everybody seemed to have to themselves, if there were to be somebody who lived there that he didn’t get along with, it could easily start to feel cramped.

 

However, most people did like Ian, and Ian liked most people right back, so all he could do was hope that he would be okay with all of them, and that they would all be okay with him. It was too late for anything else right now anyway.

 

Ian took a deep breath and cracked the car door open, practically praying to god that this would all go smoothly.

 

Almost as soon as he exited the car and started waking up towards the house, the front door opened and a girl came half running out, looking as if she maybe had had a little too much caffeine that morning, if the way she moved was any indication. Then again, maybe she was just one of those people who normally had a lot of energy. He figured she was a roommate, so he’d find out soon enough as he got to know her.

 

Ian kept walking towards her and they met a few meters away from the porch, a big, friendly grin stretched across the girl’s face as she put her hand forwards to greet him.

 

“You’re Ian, right? I’m Mandy” She said, and he realized that this was the girl he had been mailing back and forth with for the past week. Ian shifted his gymbag to his left hand so that he could shake hers, making sure that a smile just as kind was placed onto his own lips, the last thing he wanted to do was make a bad first impression on her. On any of the people he was going to live with, for that matter.

 

Mandy was a kind of tall for a girl, tattoos littered across her arms and up her neck, metal rings placed here and there in her face. Her hair was so vibrantly turquoise that Ian almost got a headache just from looking at where it hung over her shoulders, drooping down all the way past her hips.

 

“Are you the one in charge of renting out the rooms and everything?” Ian asked her as they started walking up towards the house.

 

“No” Mandy said. “Well…” She backtracked then. “No one else can be bothered, so whenever someone moves out and we have to make the rent, I guess I kind of am.” Ian nodded, following her up onto the porch. “Most people are out at work right now, you’ll meet them tonight” The girl explained then, cracking the front door open, holding it wide so that Ian could step inside with her.

 

They immediately arrived into some kind of hall, dark wood dressing both the walls and the floors. Maybe the ceiling too.

 

The house seemed just as big from the inside as it did from the outside, but it wasn’t really that showy, it was more like a normal house, not quite as intimidating as he had first felt it was. In fact, if Ian were to compare it to something, he’d probably compare it to the main house on a ranch. It looked nice and it was roomy, but there wasn’t anything crazy like expensive marble or some shit.

 

“Come on, I’ll give you a tour” Mandy said, and Ian nodded.

 

She took him through pretty much the entire house. They walked past the kitchen and the living room - which was pretty much the same room since it was an open floorplan and there wasn’t any kind of divider in between except for the couch.

 

Mandy continued to explain about the spoken, but especially the unspoken house rules. Things like saturday night was game night, so the television was off limits for anything but. Every single person makes their own dinner, but if you leave leftovers in the fridge, apparently it was like throwing a raw t bone into an enclosure filled with lions.

 

Mandy quickly tore through another few rules as she showed him around the first floor. Ten or fifteen minutes later, they were in the kitchen again, and she stopped, leaning back against the kitchen island.

 

“I think that’s it. The upstairs is just bedrooms and shit” Ian nodded at that as she fished a key chain out of her pocket, handing it over to him. “Yours is the third door to the left, think you can make it from here? I have to be at work in half an hour”

 

“Uh, yeah. Sure” He nodded in assurance as she picked a bag up from the floor, slinging it over her shoulder.

 

“Alright” Mandy lightly slapped his shoulder. “Welcome to the tribe, loser” Ian saluted her, and then she turned around, quickly making her way out of the house, leaving him alone.

 

Ian had to admit - now that he was actually inside the house, and he knew that he liked Mandy, he felt a little bit calmer with the whole ordeal. He wasn’t really a nervous or self-conscious person overall, but he figured that considering the fact that he had never once lived on his own before - well, he wasn’t going to live on his own, but without his siblings - he was allowed to have a slight uncomfortable tumble in his stomach.

 

Thankfully, though, in his opinion, his first few minutes at the house couldn’t have gone better, so now that feeling was almost completely vanished. He figured that the last bit would go away when he met the other people who lived here.

 

Ian let his eyes sweep over the downstairs one more time, drinking this in. The feeling of finally being out of the house. If he was truly honest, as much as he loved his family, he had been feeling cramped for probably the better part of his teenage years, so in his opinion, he was more than allowed to take a moment to enjoy this.

 

In the very beginning, when he had first started looking for a place to move to, and when he had found this ad, he had also been kind of scared that him being gay would cause a problem. Granted this house wasn’t in the homophobic hellhole that was known as the south side, and it was really nobody’s business except for his own, he knew that.

 

He could easily have pushed those concerns to the very back of his mind and decided not to deal with it, not tell anybody. But ultimately, not telling would mean going back into the closet, something he was extremely uncomfortable with. So a few emails in, he had briefly mentioned it to Mandy, just to get it over with, and to his surprise she had just barely acknowledged it, said that nobody in the house would care. That was the moment when Ian had decided that this was the right place for him. At least for now, and for probably quite a while into the future.

 

Granted, he really had no idea what the rest of the people would be like when he actually met them, or if he would even get along with any of them. But if they were anything like Mandy, he didn’t think that there was going to be much of a problem. And even if there was, he wasn't sure that that could bother him right now. He was too happy and proud of himself for taking this step.

 

After quite a while of just standing in the kitchen, letting his mind run wild, Ian finally had himself snap out of that state, and picked up his bag, taking the stairs towards his apparent room. It wasn’t too difficult to find, it was the third door on the left, just as Mandy had told him, and the bed didn’t have any sheets on it, so he figured that there was no way he had walked into the wrong room.

 

A loud sigh escaped his mouth as he threw his bag up onto the naked mattress, a hand running through his hair - he should really get a haircut soon. He was starting to look like a redheaded Kurt Cobain. Well, actually that was probably quite the exaggeration, but it was how he felt.

 

He sank down onto the bed, his mind starting to drift again. It felt really fucking strange to be here. To have his own place, roommates or not. Since he had first driven up to the house, the main feeling in his stomach had been nervousness. Along with pride, of course, but that uncomfortable stir in his body had been the feeling that had proved to be the most prominent.

 

Now, though, it was completely gone. Just like that. How, he had no fucking idea, but all he felt was excitement. He was so fucking happy that he had made it this far.

 

Maybe it seemed silly, fuck, the house wasn’t even half an hour away from the one he had lived in until now. But one year ago, Ian had been so fucking sick. He had felt heavy, and numb and broken, and he had never suspected that he would make it to eighteen years old, much less actually move out, move on and grow up. But he had, and here he was. He was so fucking proud of himself for it. And he was fucking allowed to be.

 

Ian jumped a little bit, startled by his obnoxiously loud ringtone, his phone vibrating against his thigh. As soon as he fished the device out of his pocket, he saw his older sister’s name spelled out across the screen and immediately pressed accept, putting the phone to his ear.

 

“Hey, Fi”

 

 _“Hi. I’m on a break, I just thought I’d make sure that you got there alright”_ Fiona’s voice rassled through the line, the sound of clinking plates in the background.

 

“Yeah. I’m here. Everything’s fine” Ian assured her, standing up and turning around, zipping his bag up, deciding he might as well get started on unpacking, no matter how boring it may be.

 

 _“Yeah? Roommates nice to you?”_ She asked.

 

“I’ve only met one, but she’s great” He explained. “I’m just about to unpack”

 

_“Well good, I’m not gonna bother you then. But hey, Ian?”_

 

“Yeah?” He assured her that she had his attention as he lifted a few folded t shirts out of the big gymbag, along with the sheets he had brought.

 

_“Lip’s coming back on sunday, we’re gonna have breakfast here in the diner. You have time to come, right?”_

 

Ian wasn’t quite sure why they should suddenly have a big, cozy family breakfast together, they hadn’t done that in years. But he guessed that it had something to do with the fact that almost half of the kids were out of the house by now. Maybe that made Fiona a little bit more desperate to try to keep them all in touch, and honestly, he couldn’t blame her.

 

Ian had seen all too many families fall apart over the years, and no matter how dysfunctional the Gallaghers were, he really didn’t want that to happen to them.

 

“Yeah, sure, Fi. I’ll be there. Nine? Ten?” He asked her then.

 

 _“Nine is probably good”_ Fiona said. _“I’ll see you then, alright? Make sure to call me if anything goes wrong”_

 

“I will” Ian nodded to himself.

 

They said goodbye and hung up, and Ian pushed his phone back down in his pocket, diving into his bag to unpack the rest of his things.

 

  
About an hour or so later, all of Ian’s clothes were in the drawers of the bureau and he had put the sheets on his bed so that he wouldn’t have to mess with that later tonight. The bed was a little bit bigger than the tiny one he had slept in until now, so his sheets fit snugly, but thankfully it hadn’t been impossible to get them onto the mattress.

 

As he stood in the middle of the room, he concluded that it actually didn’t look that bad. Sure, it didn’t have much of a personal touch since he had virtually brought nothing but clothes and his toothbrush, however, he also figured that the longer he lived here, the more things he would end up gathering. Surely in a month or two he would feel a little bit more at home.

 

This bedroom was most likely about double the size of the one he had shared with his brothers growing up, and the bed was placed right in the middle of the longest wall, tapering down the middle of the room, almost like a divider of some sort. Ian couldn’t quite decide whether the walls were painted grey or light brown, maybe something in between.

 

The truth was that this room had been his home for less than two hours, but he already loved it, and he knew that this was a good setup. He had made the right choice, and there was not a doubt in his mind about that fact.

 

Ian sighed softly, running a hand over his hair before turning around and walking back out into the hallway again, deciding that he probably should get something to eat before all of his new roommates would come bursting into the house. From what he had gathered from Mandy, the kitchen could get overcrowded pretty quickly.

 

He ran down the stairs, thinking that he was completely alone in the house since he hadn’t heard the front door slam at all. However, as he got to the lowest step, his eyes landed on a figure, sitting in one of the soft chairs in the corner of the living room. His eyes were on a laptop screen as he quickly moved his fingers over the keys, seemingly not noticing Ian at all.

 

Ian swallowed, slowly and quietly turning to his left and walking behind the kitchen island, his eyes never leaving the guy. He had some kind of feeling that he had noticed Ian, but just didn't give enough of a fuck to look up.

 

From what Ian could see from across the room, his hair was dyed black - maybe it was dark to begin with, but it was definitely way too black to be natural on a person with skin that pale.

 

The skin that Ian could see, that was. Small pockets here and there, the rest was covered in ink, all of the tattoos blending together into a complete mess. The dark shapes covered his entire arms along with his neck, some of them even going up onto his cheekbones.

 

There was a metal ring punched through his eyebrow, and Ian thought that maybe he could see the hint of one in his lip as well, but it was hard to tell as his head was tilted downwards, eyes still on his laptop screen, his fingers not slowing down for a single second.

 

“If you’re gonna keep staring at me all fucking day, maybe I should start charging for it” Ian all but jumped at the sudden acknowledgement, being torn out of the strange haze he had just been sucked into. The guy still hadn’t moved his gaze from the computer screen, although his typing had slowed down ever so slightly.

 

“Sorry” Ian mumbled awkwardly, not quite sure how to get out of this one. “I just, um… I didn’t think anyone else was here” He turned around, opening the fridge right as he realized that he probably should have bought his own food. Then again, he recalled Mandy mentioning something about food and lions and t bones, so he grabbed an apple, letting the door click closed again as he turned back around. “I’m Ian” He spoke up then, and at that, the guy finally looked up.

 

Ian found himself looking straight into a pair of bright, piercing blue eyes, although he couldn’t quite decide whether they were creepy or beautiful. He’d probably go with creepy for now.

 

There was a rim of black around them, and Ian forced himself to momentarily forget the fact that he found eyeliner on a guy extremely hot. This was not the time. Besides, this guy seemed to be nothing but a complete asshole so far.

 

“Yeah” The guy mumbled lowly. “The new roommate, I know.” He got up from the chair, lifting his laptop with him. For a tenth of a second, Ian thought that maybe he was going to walk up to him and make conversation. Instead, he continued right past him, heading towards the stairs. “Just stay the fuck out of my way and we won’t have a problem”

 

Mandy walked straight into the living room through the backdoor just in time to hear the last few words of the guy’s curse, her eyes focusing on a completely baffled Ian. They were both quiet for a second, but once a door slammed loudly upstairs, Ian managed to snap out of his shock, looking to his new friend, eyebrows knitted together.

 

“What did I do?” Mandy snorted, walking over to the kitchen island and hanging her back over one of the barstools, shaking her head.

 

“That’s my brother Mickey. Don’t take it personally” She explained. “He never likes it when someone new moves in, says it disturbs his peace or concentration or some shit” Mandy shrugged it off, leaving Ian with no option but to do the same.

 

  
Later that night as the darkness fell outside, more and more people started pouring into the house. There were two more Milkovich’s living there - Iggy and Colin, they seemed cool. There were also a couple of more girls around Ian and Mandy’s age, they were nice too.

 

To Ian it was a complete mess of people and he’d probably need at least a day or two to put the names with the faces, but for now he realized one by one that his new roommates were even nicer than he ever could have imagined.

 

Save for the man sitting on the couch, of course, the frown seemingly glued to his face. It had taken Ian quite a few hours to decide what he thought of Mickey. He hadn't known whether he thought of him as the quiet guy in the corner, or just an obnoxious asshole. Now, though, Ian was more sure than ever.

 

Mickey Milkovich scared the absolute fuck out of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think about this so far! I value your opinions so much <3
> 
> I should also warn you all that the smut that I'm planning for this fic might end up being kinkier than anything I've ever written in the past so if you can't handle that, then I'd suggest you stop reading right here :)


	2. Guts Churn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian wasn’t sure if it was the extreme amount of tattoos, the thick rim of eyeliner around Mickey’s eyes, or the way he was virtually one of the nastiest people he had ever come across - he guessed that it was all of it - but his opinion of Mickey was a haze of different feelings. None of which were good.

Thankfully, Ian was able to go the next week without seeing Mickey much at all, and he wasn’t even trying that hard. He worked nights, dancing at the fairytale, so usually he slept in, meaning that he didn’t see any of his roommates all that much since they had day jobs.

 

Mandy worked at a diner with Iggy and another one of the girls who lived in the house. Colin was a waiter at a slightly nicer restaurants and Ian wasn’t sure what everyone else did, he hadn’t found the time to ask - or care for that matter.

 

Even though all nine of them lived together in the same house, they truly had nine separate lives and they didn’t even end up talking that much. During the week at least, on the weekend they had more time to care about being friends with each other.

 

From what Ian had gathered - of course he hadn’t actually asked Mickey, but he did talk to Mandy a great deal - Mickey was an editor, meaning that he worked from home most of the time. Ian had a feeling that it was mostly pure luck how they ended up stepping around each other instead offing forced into the same room.

 

Although, Ian had to admit - he did avoid the man.

 

If he walked into the livingroom and Mickey was sitting in his chair, he would either walk back up the stairs and wait for him to go away, or he would quickly do whatever he needed to do downstairs - usually get something to eat - and then he would turn back around.

 

It was so strange, really. Ian had never been much of a cautious guy, nor had he ever really been afraid of another human being - not like this. And he wasn’t even sure if saying he was scared of Mickey was the right word of choice.

 

The guy just kind of… really fucking creeped him out.

 

Mickey and Ian hadn’t said a single word to each other since that first day that Ian had moved in almost a week ago, and he had to admit that he was glad. Albeit basically being told to fuck off didn’t hurt his feelings or some shit, but that didn’t mean that he had to like it.

 

Ian had in fact asked Mandy one more time what he had possibly done to make her brother hate him so much - none of her other brothers did, and the rest of the roommates seemed to like him just fine - but she had just shrugged it off, giving him the same line he had gotten on the first day. ‘Don’t take it personally. It’s just because you’re new’.

 

Ian wasn’t sure if it was the extreme amount of tattoos, the thick rim of eyeliner around Mickey’s eyes, or the way he was virtually one of the nastiest people he had ever come across - he guessed that it was all of it - but his opinion of Mickey was a haze of different feelings. None of which were good.

 

Whenever they ended up in the same room together for one reason or another, his stomach would start churning in a way that Ian had never quite felt it before. When his eyes would land on Mickey - which he avoided, too - his cheeks would start aching, almost as if he was getting ready to throw up or something.

 

Ian wasn’t sure what that feeling was, he just knew that he didn’t like it and it wasn’t normal, which was why he had labeled it in his own head as fear. And insecurity. He felt insecure around Mickey, too. Mostly because he had no idea whatsoever how to act around him, so usually he just ended up doing nothing.

 

Sure, of course in a way he felt like a complete pussy for feeling this way, but he couldn’t change it. He couldn’t stop being shaky around Mickey no matter how much he would like to.

 

Ian and Mickey’s streak of absolute silence would come to an end on a wednesday night.

 

Ian was sitting by the kitchen island with Mandy as they flipped through different interior design magazines. Mandy had suddenly up and decided to repaint and redo her room. Ian had agreed to be the one to help her, mainly for the fact that he was the person in the house who had the most free time on his hands.

 

He also really liked Mandy, in fact, Ian was quickly starting to consider her to be his best friend, something he hadn’t had in a long time.

 

“What about this color?” Mandy asked, pushing her magazine over to Ian, pointing to a pictured wall, the color a deep red, some kind of pattern in it resembling velvet. Ian frowned, sliding the item even closer to himself so that he could take a better look.

 

He squinted for a second, trying to picture Mandy sleeping in a bedroom with walls of that kind, and with that, he shook his head, straightening up on his chair again.

 

“No. I think you’d get bored of it” He spoke, pushing the magazine back over to his friend and then moved his gaze back to the one ahead of him, eyes drifting over different lamps and headboards. Mandy hummed, nodding after a beat.

 

“Yeah, you’re probably right” She agreed thoughtfully, and then they both quieted down, going back to flipping the pages.

 

Ian absentmindedly looked over the different colors and design ideas, none of them really sticking as his mind was elsewhere. He did that a lot lately - thought. About himself, about his life. About everything, really. Were he to be honest with himself, it wasn’t just his new roommate he was afraid of.

 

Ian was afraid of himself. Well… not himself as much as his life, where he was going with it. Ian was a little bit scared because he had no fucking idea what he wanted to do. And sure, it was probably unhealthy to start stressing about this shit right now - fuck, he hadn’t even been out of the Gallagher house for more than six days. He could at least take a couple of months before he let his head start to spin about his future.

 

But ever since Ian had first started to get back on track after his bipolar disorder had started to clear up - well, not actually clear up, obviously, but since he had started to feel better - his mind had spun. It was as if he had a stereotypical mother inside of his head - ‘What are you going to do with your life? You can’t do this for the next fifty years’ and similar questions echoed inside of him.

 

Dancing wasn’t a ‘good job’ obviously, but it did pay the small amount of bills that he had right now. However, as much as he had enjoyed working at the club once upon a time, he didn’t anymore. He didn’t like having those old men gawking over him, he didn’t like stepping into those booty shorts every night. Sure, he didn’t hate it, it didn’t make chills run down his spine, but he would really like to find something better at some point.

 

This was what he dealt with every single day. Thoughts literally spinning around and around and around inside of his head, driving him to all but insanity. Whenever they got too much for him, he remembered to do a few things.

 

Ian’s gaze stayed on the magazine as he took a deep breath, feeling his lungs fill with air. He kept it for a moment, and then he let it go, his breath falling the page, his body and mind relaxing ever so slightly. When his therapist had first suggested the ‘take a deep breath’ thing, he had almost laughed in her face. Jokes on him, because it always worked.

 

“What about this one?” Ian asked, sliding his magazine over to his friend, his finger pointing to a headboard made out of metal. It was slightly edgy, but it didn’t look quite as dungeony as some others next to it did. In his opinion, it was perfect for Mandy.

 

Mandy’s tongue darted out to wet her own lips as she thought about it. Finally, she nodded.

 

“That looks good, I like it” She spoke. “Oh” They both jumped slightly as her phone started vibrating against the counter, calling out for her attention. “Give me a second” Ian nodded as she picked the device up and put it against her ear, right as she jumped off of the barstool. Her long, blue hair was collected into a ponytail, bopping against her back as she ran up the right side of the double stairs.

 

Ian’s gaze was on her skinny back for a second before he dipped his head, looking back down into the magazine, his mind beginning to drift away from the room again. That was, until he heard somebody else enter it, heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. Ian knew exactly who it was just by the chill running down his spine.

 

This wasn’t normal, it couldn’t be. The way his skin reacted just by being within the same room as Mickey, the way he tensed up, the way his mouth went all dry. He had never felt this way before in his entire life, and he wasn’t sure whether he was scared of Mickey or purely of the feeling. Possibly both.

 

Since Ian was facing away from the left side of the stairs, he didn’t see Mickey, and he kept still, eyes still on the shiny paper in front of him. He heard him, though. Mickey moved from the stairs to the livingroom, sitting down in his usual chair, Ian could tell from the way it creaked ever so slightly, the cushion making a small, soft noise with it.

 

After all of thirty seconds, Ian managed to shake the feeling off a little bit, and he went back to flipping through the magazine, the tingling in his scalp coming to a stop, his heart beating normally, saliva on his tongue again.

 

Ian even managed to take another deep breath, convincing himself that being in the same room as the guy he was terrified of wasn’t a big deal at all. He wasn’t sure why his body was acting as if it was. It wasn’t as if Mickey was a serial killer or something, he was just a regular guy - a fucking unnecessarily rude guy, but Ian’s point still stood to himself.

 

Ian kept his chin resting in his open palm as he continued mindlessly slipping through the magazine, eyes just barely traveling over the pages before he went on to the next one. Ten minutes later, Mandy was still talking to somebody on her phone - Ian could hear her chattering upstairs - and he had almost forgotten the fact that Mickey was in the room.

 

That was, until Mickey got up from his chair and walked over to the kitchen. Ian swallowed roughly, hating the way his stomach knotted up, fuck, he still hadn’t even laid eyes on him. Just knowing that the man was in the room was enough to make Ian’s guts churn, his stomach dropping, heart slamming against his ribcage.

 

Mickey’s steps came closer and soon he walked past the redhead, up to the fridge, doing nothing to acknowledge his presence.

 

Ian swallowed, his head slowly lifting up, eyes focusing on Mickey’s back, covered by the thin, black cotton fabric. He wasn’t sure why, but he wasn’t pulling his eyes away from the man, instead, they wandered over the black hair, buzzed on the back of Mickey’s neck. Ian looked at the tattoos that he still couldn’t quite make out what they were. The ink went all over his arms, up his neck, covering every single part of his body that Ian’s could see, even parts of his face down by his jawline.

 

Mickey had been standing by the fridge, looking at the items inside, seemingly trying to figure out what he wanted to eat. Now, he had apparently figured it out, though, and as he moved, closing the door in front of him, Ian was quick to dip his head back down, gaze focusing on the magazine in front of him, stomach starting to churn again.

 

His throat was starting to sting, a bad taste filling Ian’s mouth, similar to the one he’d get right before he was about to barf. There was no possible reason why another human being - who virtually had done nothing to him other than spit a few curses - should bring that reaction out of Ian, but for one reason or another, Mickey Milkovich did.

 

“Would you fucking move out of my way?” Ian thankfully managed to keep from physically jumping out of his skin at the loud, angry tone in the voice that he hadn’t heard since that very first day. But that didn’t mean that his heart didn’t start slamming ever more powerfully against his ribcage, his fucking fingers tingling in a way that he couldn’t really decipher the reason or feeling behind.

 

Mickey had gotten past Ian three minutes earlier without an issue, so it was quite clear that he was simply being mean for the reason of being mean, and Ian had had enough.

 

“What the fuck is your problem with me?” Ian wasn’t aware of the words before they were out of his mouth, or before he was up on his feet, facing his nemesis. The fact that he towered over him quite a bit didn’t change who the obvious boss was in between them, because Ian didn’t say anything more for a beat. He just swallowed down a bitter, sour taste in his throat, realizing that shouting back at this guy may not be the way to go if he wanted this strange, unnecessary feud to come to an end.

 

Mickey’s eyebrows traveled further up onto his forehead as he mirrored Ian’s action of placing his hand onto the kitchen island beside them, staring up at the redhead, waiting for more, quite obviously amused by his sudden burst of self defense.

 

Ian forced himself to swallow again, keeping his eyes on Mickey’s despite the fact that he so oh very badly just wanted to turn around and run back up the stairs, maybe hide under his covers. Mickey really hadn’t done much to him, Ian had suffered through worse bullies than just someone telling him to fuck off, but this was different. So different.

 

It wasn't Mickey’s words that made him scary to Ian, or even his actions, really. It was just… the way he was. Maybe it made zero sense, but the way he moved, the way he raised his eyebrows, the way he stared, it made chills of the absolute worst kind run down Ian’s spine and Ian had no idea how to stop it or how to get over it.

 

Finally, despite the unpleasant sting in Ian’s throat, regathered up the courage to open his mouth and keep talking.

 

“I’ve done nothing to you” Ian was a little bit surprised at how fucking steady his voice sounded, because his heart was banging, body thrumming as if he were a fifteen yearold girl running away from a rapist.

 

He wished so fucking badly that he could figure out why that was, why his body acted like that around this man. Why he pulsed and throbbed and thrummed in a way that was completely foreign to him. He wasn’t sure that it was fear, he just knew that it was intense as fuck and he had never felt it before, so that’s what he labeled it as.

 

Mickey still didn’t say anything back, he just kept still, looking up at Ian, intimidating eyes blinking slowly, as if he was bored with this conversation already. The small piece of metal punched through his eyebrow gleamed from the sun pouring in through the window, and Ian had to force himself to take a deep breath before he could continue talking.

 

“Why do you hate me?” It was a fair enough question, and as much as Ian might have liked to think that it would throw his nemesis slightly off balance, Mickey was Mickey, so of course it didn’t. Instead he just tilted his head slightly to the side, blacklined eyes squinting ever so slightly, big lips parting.

 

“I don’t hate you” To say Ian was taken aback by Mickey’s simple response would be nothing if not an understatement. His eyebrows drew together as he silently waited for Mickey to elaborate.

 

For him to say something more. Maybe even apologies or assure Ian that he was completely okay with him living here - Ian didn’t know Mickey, it was impossible for him to assume anything one way or another, being that this was only the second time they had ever exchanged words.

 

Alas, Ian’s first impression of Mickey - that he was a scary, emotionless punk douchebag - seemed to be the correct one, because in the next second, the expression on his face hardened further and he straightened up, his eyes bearing something that Ian couldn’t quite decipher, but it made the chills return deep into his spine.

 

“You gonna fucking move out of my way or not?” Ian sighed, finally giving up and turning his body sideways, letting his nemesis pass.

 

  
Ian and Mickey’s conversation - if you could even call it that - did nothing for Ian’s fear other than spike it even further. As he laid in bed that night, he couldn’t go to sleep to save his fucking life. He kept tossing and turning, his body temperature seemingly going nowhere but up.

 

He shouldn’t be this guy. He shouldn’t let an obvious bully get to him, he should shake it off, ignore it. Move on and let it go, fuck, it wasn’t even as if Mickey did anything to him every day. Ian had without a doubt dealt with worse people in his life, so why Mickey?

 

Why was this random guy that he didn't even have to talk to turning him inside out this badly? He wished that he had an answer, but he didn’t.

  
As Ian fell asleep that night, his mind was filled with thoughts of tattoos and blue eyes that he now for some reason - albeit subconsciously - realized may be something other than creepy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to let me know if you're still liking this! I hope that all of you have an amazing day/night! <3


	3. Dealbreaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re quiet. You tense up whenever you see me” Ian tried not to breathe too heavily, but it was completely impossible. 
> 
> Mickey was inching himself ever so slightly closer, and Ian’s heart picked up even more speed and strength, throwing itself against his ribs so hard that he was worried that Mickey could hear it. His pale, freckly skin was completely throbbing and he had no fucking idea how to stop whatever was going on here. 
> 
> “You are” Mickey concluded. “You’re fucking terrified of me”

By the time Ian managed to drag himself out of bed the next morning, the clock had almost ticked past eleven thirty. Despite the fact that he worked full nights, he did try to get up at a semi normal time because otherwise he wouldn’t have any time to enjoy the day. Go running or read a book or whatever the fuck he felt like doing that day.

 

However, eleven thirty was a little bit too late in his opinion, so as he walked the hallway down towards the stairs and the kitchen he was mentally kicking himself a little bit, knowing that this would throw off his entire routine.

 

A slight sigh escaped his lips as he reached up to run a hand through his hair, his steps heavy. An old black t shirt was hanging off of his back. It had surely been Lip’s at some point in time. Maybe even Franks by the how terribly the graphic design had faded by now.

 

Ian’s eyes were stinging with sleep as he got closer and closer to the stairs, and he subconsciously assumed that since it was almost lunch time on a thursday, that everybody would be out of the house. Sadly, he was about to be very disappointed.

 

“You have a long night or some shit?” Ian’s right hand had been up by his eyes, attempting to rub some of the remaining sleep out of them, but now he let his arm drop to the side, eyebrows knitting together into a frown.

 

Ian blinked a few times to get his eyes to focus, finally settling his gaze onto his nemesis. Mickey was sitting by the kitchen island, eyes on the screen of his computer in front of him. His hair was messed up, body covered in a light grey v neck instead of the black ones he usually wore. He also had a big cup of what smelled like pure black coffee beside him. All of it added up to the man not having woken up more than maybe an hour before Ian had.

 

The redhead’s eyebrows were still pulled together as he tried to figure his roommate out. What surprised him even more than the fact that Mickey was home right now - since by Ian’s calculations he was usually working somewhere else until around lunch and then came back to the house - was the fact that he was talking to him. Just like that.

 

And not only that in fact, but the words that had fallen out from in between his lips hadn’t been an insult. Just a simple, normal question. Ian was completely stunned to say the least. Then again, maybe Mandy had been right all along. Maybe Mickey was just the kind of person who had to warm up to you in his own time. Maybe he had had enough time.

 

Alas, that didn’t change the fact that the man still scared the living shit out of Ian, and Ian - even after a week of living in the same house as the guy - had any sort of reason as to why. He had never had trouble with people covered in tattoos before, nor piercings. He had never found eyeliner on a guy anything but hot. And he had never been very intimidated by people who were quiet or who’s mouths were nothing but an insult dispenser.

 

However, Mickey had and was all of those things at once. And for some reason, it all added up to the scariest excuse for a person that Ian had ever met in his entire life. The truth was that he would rather interview a serial killer than be in the same room as Mickey.

 

The worst part was that Mickey wasn’t just mean. He was quiet and creepy and gave Ian no fucking idea as to what he was thinking about anything. Ever. Which only made him despise the punk even more. Whenever Ian’s gaze focused on Mickey - fuck, whenever they were even just in the same room together - his entire body was filled with the low rumble of fear along with pure, unadulterated hate. And who could honestly blame him for it?

 

Frankly, Ian had no idea who anybody in this house - who wasn’t related to him at least - could consider Mickey a friend. Then again, from what he had seen, he was the only one who was being treated like this.

 

“You mute now?” Mickey’s mocking voice snapped Ian out of whatever planet he had momentarily traveled to, and he realized with mortification that he was still standing a few steps into the kitchen, staring straight at the brunet.

 

Mickey was staring back, perfectly shaped eyebrows far up onto his forehead as he quite obviously waited for Ian to answer him. The only problem was that Ian really had no idea what to say. This was only the third time ever that they had exchanged words. And for some reason, Mickey had initiated it.

 

Before yesterday, the few times they had ended up alone in the same room, he would just ignore him, and Ian would do the same. Ian had thought that it was some kind of quiet deal that they had made; a ‘Don’t talk to me and I won’t bother you’ kind of thing.

 

But apparently said deal was now broken - or maybe it was just something that Ian had imagined to begin with. And now they were cleared for talking. Whether they still hated each other or not, well… he guessed that he would have to push past his fear of the man and talk back if he ever wanted to find out.

 

“Uh, yeah. I work nights” Ian answered after forcing himself to take a deep breath. Then he pushed himself further into the kitchen, over to the fridge so that he could make himself some breakfast all the while pretending as if he wasn’t more confused now than he had been in his entire life.

 

“The club, right. Mands told me”

 

Ian’s heart was still beating fast, banging against his ribcage with so much force that he could feel it rattling the bones. Why Mickey had this physical effect on him, he guessed that he would never know. He had never felt anything like it in the past and so far it didn’t seem to be something that he was able to control in any way, shape or form.

 

It just happened whenever he was in the same room as the guy. His heart started banging, his blood started pumping, his mind started spinning. Ian was pretty sure that it was the feeling known as terror, but since Mickey was the only person who had ever made him feel this way, he couldn’t be completely certain. Alas, for now he was still labeling the reaction as fear.

 

Mickey’s eyes were back on his computer screen by the time Ian turned around from the fridge, placing the milk onto the counter of the kitchen island along with the box of froot loops. He did his best not to, but soon enough his gaze was back on Mickey.

 

His face was settled into the frown that Ian now realized to be his resting face. His eyebrows were relaxed, lips ever so slightly apart as his fingers moved quickly over the keyboard at a speed that Ian would never be able to master. A lump poked out of his cheek as he moved his tongue along the inside, something he did often enough that Ian had realized it was something he did when he was concentrating. He probably wasn’t even aware of it himself.

 

As much as Ian hated to admit it about someone so obviously verbally nasty, there was a lot to look at. The black hair that was quite clearly dyed to be even darker than it originally was. The metal rings in the dark, perfectly shaped eyebrow along with the thick, pink, plump bottom lip. The way the ink on Mickey’s arms curved around his very obvious muscles. The way his tongue sometimes darted out to wet his lips when he wasn't even aware of it.

 

Ian really did hate the fact that Mickey was such a mean person, because if he hadn't been, he probably would have even considered the man to be hot. But alas, Mickey was who he was, so a couple of minutes passed by of Ian staring at him - once again off in his own world - before the older man looked up, frowning.

 

“You got a fucking problem?” Ian jumped, ever so slightly rattled at the sudden words. Soon he collected himself and shook his head.

 

“And we’re back to being a jackass, I see” He didn’t say that part out loud, though, of course he didn’t. He was way too terrified of the man sitting in front of him. The truth was that he didn’t know much about Mickey other than the fact that he was confusing as fuck, so he didn’t want to bite back, because in turn he would be risking a beatdown. And beat up twinks didn’t get tips.

 

“No” Ian spoke instead, quickly going back to pouring the cereal into his bowl, neither of them saying another word.

 

  
Almost an entire hour later, Ian was finally in the shower. His eyes were closed, arms wrapped around himself as the cold, freezing water pounded down onto his body. There were a lot of things that could be better with this house, but the water pressure wasn’t one. At least compared to the slight dribble he had grown up with, it was fucking amazing.

 

Some of the red hair fell and glued to his forehead, and he brought his hand up, pushing the soaked strands back on top of his head as his mind started drifting again. Ian had never been the kind of person to spend all of his time thinking about a guy - especially one that he didn’t like, even as a friend. And it wasn’t as if Mickey had somehow stuck with him since they had first met - in fact, in the past week, Ian had barely acknowledged him at all.

 

However, now, for some fucking reason, he couldn’t get him out of his head. It wasn’t that he thought he was hot, or that he wanted to get to know him better or anything like that. But rather the other way around.

 

Ian would really like to know exactly what he had done to make the man hate him this bad. He’d also really like them to go back to the silent deal that maybe they had never had to begin with. Ian didn’t like talking to Mickey, and he didn’t like Mickey talking to him.

 

Everything had just been so much easier back when they had ignored each other. A few days back, Ian had just been able to label Mickey as his nemesis, and that had been it. But then one of them - Ian couldn’t even remember who - had started talking yesterday and apparently, now they were… enemies who talked to each other?

 

Fuck if he knew.

 

Ian pushed any and all thoughts out of his head and focused on the wonderful, cooling feeling of the water being poured all over his body, calming him down.

 

  
Ian stayed in his room for a few hours after he got out of the shower, so by the time he walked down the stairs to the first floor again, Mandy was home. She was sitting by the kitchen island with a glass of juice beside her, scrolling through her phone. The blue hair fixed into a long, thick braid, thrown over her shoulder. Next to her - of course - was Mickey, almost in the same exact place he had been when Ian had first gone up to take that shower.

 

Ian swallowed, feeling ever so slightly more confident in himself when his best friend was nearby.

 

“Hey, Mands. I didn’t think you’d be home until later?” He asked, the words not sounding nearly as shaky when he wasn’t actually talking to Mickey. He walked a little bit further into the kitchen, getting the orange juice out of the fridge to pour himself a glass as well.

 

Mandy hummed, and he saw her squint a little bit right as she finished reading something on her phone. Then she locked it, putting the device face down onto the counter before looking up at her friend.

 

“I have to go back soon, but I had about an hour free” She shrugged, and Ian nodded, swallowing a gulp of the juice.

 

About ten minutes later, the door slammed behind Mandy as she left to go back to work, leaving Ian and Mickey alone in the kitchen once again. Ian mentally cursed himself for having such poor timing. It was such a childish thing to do, really - avoid somebody because you don’t like the way that they make you feel. Ian and Mickey lived in the same house, big as it was, Ian would never be able to avoid him, not completely.

 

So he might as well get used to being uncomfortable. Or becoming comfortable with Mickey, whichever would turn out to be the easiest option. He’d put his money on the first one.

 

Ian decided to have a sandwich, so he picked the necessary things out of the fridge and placed them onto the kitchen island, starting to prepare meal. He did his best to act nonchalant and focus on the task at hand, but Mickey was staring at him, and he was more than aware of that fact. The blue eyes were all but staring straight into his soul, causing his heart to pick up even more strength, slamming against his ribcage. Frankly, he’d prefer an insult.

 

Ian wasn’t brave enough to look up from what he was doing, but somehow he knew that Mickey had closed the computer by now, steadying himself on his forearms as he let his eyes wander over the younger man.

 

Ian could almost feel his gaze, drifting over his face. And his neck, arms. Hands. It was making him extremely uncomfortable, but his guts were churning too badly for him to say anything, vocal chords knotting up. Finally, though, he couldn’t take it anymore.

 

Ian stopped his hands from moving, forcing his head up, making eye contact with Mickey, blue eyes burning into green. Ian swallowed roughly before finally pushing the words off of his tongue.

 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He had to force his eyes from falling closed in embarrassment. His voice sounded weaker than he had ever heard it before, cracking at least two times before the sentence was completed. He was such a pussy.

 

Mickey was a person, just like him. Why was he so fucking terrified? Alas, the question was out there, and as much as Ian had expected a nasty comeback, Mickey just tilted his head to the side, a slight smirk stretching across his lips.

 

“You’re afraid of me”

 

Ian’s mouth immediately dried out completely, vocal chords being tied up as his head fell back down, eyes sticking to the half made sandwich as he desperately wracked his brain for an appropriate answer. What the fuck was he - actually, how the fuck was he supposed to say anything to that?

 

“I’m not” Anyone in the entire world would be able to hear the obvious lie embedded in the two, simple words. Ian wasn’t brave enough to look up again, but he could just imagine the dark, perfectly arched eyebrows being lift up further onto Mickey’s forehead, his mouth being pulled into even more of a smirk.

 

“No, you are” Ian could hear the slight, teasing tickle in his voice along with the quiet creaking as he got off of the barstool and stepped around the island. The air in the room had been tense ever since Mandy had left, but now it was still enough that you could surely slit it with a knife. “I’ve been trying to figure you out, Gallagher”

 

Mickey was only a few feet away now, leaning sideways against the counter, eyes on Ian’s profile. Ian still wasn’t brave enough to look up, and his hands had completely stopped moving, the lump in his throat growing bigger by the second.

 

The only side that he had ever really seen of Mickey was the nasty one, the one that told him to fuck off for no reason at all. He had also been introduced to the quiet Mickey, the one who sat in his chair in the corner and said nothing.

 

What he hadn’t seen was this side. The teasing one, the part of Mickey that apparently liked to mock people or make them uncomfortable. Ian had to admit that he preferred the nasty Mickey over this one.

 

“You’re quiet. You tense up whenever you see me” Ian tried not to breathe too heavily, but it was completely impossible. Mickey was inching himself ever so slightly closer, and Ian’s heart picked up even more speed and strength, throwing itself against his ribs so hard that he was worried that Mickey could hear it. His pale, freckly skin was completely throbbing and he had no fucking idea how to stop whatever was going on here. “You are” Mickey concluded. “You’re fucking terrified of me”

 

Ian wished oh so badly that that statement wasn’t even a little bit true, but it was. What else could it be? He hated Mickey so fucking badly that he actually physically reacted to it. And right now, as Mickey inched closer and closer to him, doing anything and everything to make him as uncomfortable as possible, that fact was more true than it ever had been in the past.

 

“I’m not” Ian repeated, knowing full well that the words weren’t even a little bit believable.

 

“No?” Mickey asked, his voice low now. Quiet.

 

Ian lifted his head, staring straight ahead at the livingroom wall, forcing himself to swallow roughly. Mickey was inching even closer, and he wasn’t sure where his roommate was going with this. How badly he wanted to make him uncomfortable. Because that was clearly what he was trying to do.

 

However, for some fucking reason, with Mickey’s whispers and the way he was moving closer and closer to Ian, Ian’s body was starting to react in a completely different way. The development was slow, but it was there.

 

And Ian fucking cursed everyone and everything that had led him to put on sweatpants.

 

His large hands stayed on the marble counter, curling into fists around nothing as he willed his heart to slow down, praying for the blood to stop coursing throughout his veins. It was no use whatsoever. His body just seemed to go further and further into shock the closer Mickey got. By now the slightly shorter man was standing almost behind Ian, one of his hands still resting on the counter a bit away from Ian’s.

 

“You’re not scared? Not… uncomfortable?” Now Mickey’s voice poured straight into Ian’s left ear, his hand slipping off of the counter on the right side of him. Ian still had no fucking idea what was happening, but for some reason he didn’t want it to stop.

 

“No” Ian lied, voice shaky. Cracking even with the one syllable. Mickey hummed, and Ian was completely positive that his heart would physically burst out of his chest at any moment now. Break through his ribs. Surely Mickey could hear it the way it was slamming against Ian’s insides.

 

“Not even if I do this?”

 

Before Ian knew it, Mickey’s warm, ink covered hand was slipped inside of his sweatpants, teasingly sliding slowly down from his v line. His head was spinning like a fucking race car while at the same time staying completely blank. If there was one thing in the entire world that he would have sworn could never happen and would never happen - it was this. Mickey Milkovich - the mean, dark punk thug - touching him.

 

Although Ian had to admit, he didn’t want to push him away. It felt too good, and the hand wasn’t even near his cock yet. Something about the warmth of Mickey’s hand, the size, the slight roughness of his calluses, it sparked something inside of Ian. Something he had never quite felt before.

 

“Fuck” Ian sighed when Mickey’s fingertips finally brushed the base of his cock, teasing him with no limit. The younger man couldn’t be bothered to process this, he’d do that later. For right now, a man he thought he hated - a man he was terrified of - had a hand inside of his pants and it felt better than any actual fuck he had ever had.

 

Mickey hummed at the reaction, and before Ian knew it, his teeth had closed around his earlobe, tugging at it as he kept brushing his fingers along the underside of Ian’s erection, never going further than that. Ian let his eyes fall closed, leaning into both of the acts, somehow loving the slight sting of the bite along with the pleasurable tickle of the fingers teasing his cock. He distantly registered the low groan falling out from in-between his lips.

 

All Ian wanted to do was turn around and crash their mouths together, take that hate, that frustration. That passion that he could already tell was between them. And throw it all into one big, rough - undoubtedly amazing - fuck. He wanted to feel the cool metal of Mickey’s lip ring against his own bottom lip. He wanted to feel those perfect hands grip his hips. He wanted to grip and groap any and every inch of that pale, inked up skin.

 

Ian wanted all of that, right this second, but before he could turn around and make it happen, the hand was out of his pants, the teeth pulling off of his earlobe with a slight pinch. With a low chuckle, Mickey was out of the kitchen, leaving a breathless Ian behind, wondering what the fuck just happened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos help me out so much. I love hearing your thoughts and opinions! I wish each and every one of you an amazing night - or day, you know. Wherever you are <3


	4. Games People Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was pretty fucking clear that all Mickey wanted was to play cat and mouse, get Ian into his trap so that he could laugh at him. Maybe even mock him. Ian had a hard time believing that Mickey was even attracted to him - sure, Ian was aware that he was a good looking guy, but that wasn’t what this was about. He knew that.

The truth was that as strongly and as passionately as Ian had hated - and still hated - Mickey, he was completely and utterly unable to shake the feeling that there was something he was missing. Something he should be seeing that was so fucking obvious that he would be both laughing and beating himself up whenever he found out what that thing was.

 

Ian did his best to convince himself that his erection and the fucking goosebumps that had appeared to Mickey’s touches were nothing more than a result of him not having had the time to fuck for a while. Despite their silent fight about… something… Ian wasn’t able to deny the fact that Mickey was physically appealing. Of course he was.

 

So the fact that Ian’s body had reacted to that wasn’t strange. Not at all. But that was all that it was. A random, physical attraction, it meant nothing. And nothing like what had happened in that kitchen would ever happen again, because Ian wouldn’t let it.

 

It was pretty fucking clear that all Mickey wanted was to play cat and mouse, get Ian into his trap so that he could laugh at him. Maybe even mock him. Ian had a hard time believing that Mickey was even attracted to him - sure, Ian was aware that he was a good looking guy, but that wasn’t what this was about. He knew that.

 

The wooden bench was slightly cold under Ian’s bare thighs. He was blinking blankly at the blue color of the locker ahead of him. It was pathetic, really, but this afternoon he hadn’t seen Mickey at all, so he had gotten himself out of the house several hours earlier than he really needed to - just to make sure that it would stay that way.

 

It was childish as fuck.

 

How difficult should it be to go up to the guy and say ‘I know what you’re doing. Cut it out. I’m not interested.’? As it turns out, really fucking difficult because no matter what Ian managed to convince himself of in terms of attraction, the fact that he was scared of Mickey was something that he couldn’t truly avoid.

 

Sure, Ian could convince himself that he wasn’t attracted to Mickey, he could run out of the room whenever Mickey walked into it. He could go into work early to make sure that they didn’t crash into each other. If Ian really, truly fought for it, he could probably go several days in a row not seeing Mickey’s face, but that didn’t mean that he could avoid him.

 

Because Mickey was there. In his head. Every single hour of every single day, and Ian could do nothing about it. He wasn’t even sure why. The only possible answer he had been able to come up with so far was the fact that he had never in his entire life met a person who was anything like Mickey.

 

Not the way that he looked, or even acted, but just… Ian couldn’t quite explain it. It was something beyond those things that made Mickey completely unlike any other person that Ian had ever known and it was literally messing him up inside because he had no idea what to do about it.

 

And things had gotten even worse after that little stunt Mickey had pulled in the kitchen - granted, Ian hadn’t really let himself acknowledge the sexual attraction he held for Mickey before that had happened so of course it got more complicated.

 

One second Ian hated Mickey’s guts and fantasised about banging his head in with a hammer and the next he thought that maybe it would be better if his head bounced off of Ian’s headboard instead. He couldn’t fucking escape this shit no matter how hard he tried.

 

So now, here Ian was. Sitting in the club locker in his uniform, a whole fifteen minutes before he actually had to be here.

 

A deep sigh escaped his lips as he leaned his head backwards, a shallow noise rassling through the empty space as it hit the locker behind him. For only a second, he let his eyes drift closed, taking a deep breath. And then another one.

 

He wished so fucking badly that he was somebody else right now. Somebody who would know exactly what to say, what to do. Somebody who could decipher their own feelings which Ian currently seemed completely unable to.

 

Was he scared of Mickey? Was he so fucking attracted to Mickey that his heart just started pumping whenever they were in the same room together? Both seemed possible at this point, but then again, maybe it was also something else entirely. Or maybe it was all of it at once. In the past hour or two since he had left the house, he had started to consider another possibility as well.

 

What if he wasn’t scared of Mickey? What if he was scared of the way that Mickey made him feel?

 

What if Ian was terrified of the way his blood started absolutely racing throughout his veins, heating up every single inch of his body. What if he was terrified of the way his heart started banging against his ribcage with enough force that the possibility of it breaking through didn’t seem like fiction? What if Ian was terrified of the way his entire body tingled when Mickey got close? From his toes all the way up to the very top of his scalp?

 

From day one, Ian had interpreted all of these things as fear. Fear of Mickey. Right now he wasn’t too sure anymore. There was one other possibility as to why Ian was confused.

 

What if Ian was terrified of the way his body reacted to Mickey? What if he was terrified of how fucking attractive he found him. And what if he was still - despite all of this - so very terrified of Mickey as a whole? That would be worse than anything.

 

But the one thing that Ian was completely sure of was the fact that this whole thing with Mickey made him more confused than he had been about anything else in his entire life. His head spun around and around and around, twenty four hours a day, seven days a week and he couldn’t escape it. Fuck, his thought didn’t even make any sense half of the time.

 

Ian was ripped out of his thoughts by one of the dancers tearing the door open, entering the lockerroom.

 

“Oh. Hey, Ian” The latino man spoke, obviously surprised to see him here this early. He walked past the redhead to get to his locker, opening it up.

 

“Hey, Jer” Ian greeted him, voice flat as he did his best to shake the excess thoughts of Mickey from his brain. When the fuck did he even become this guy? The guy who missed out on life because he was too busy thinking about another one?

 

“You just hanging out or…?” Jeremy asked, a slight teasing tickle to his voice as he stepped out of his black shorts, quickly pulling his regular boxers on. Ian shrugged.

 

“Didn’t really feel like being at home right now” He answered truthfully. Thankfully, Jeremy wasn't one of those annoying people who wanted to know everything about somebody, so he didn’t ask further. Instead he just finished changing, a simple silence filling the cold, basement-like room. A minute or so later, he zipped his back up and locked the small door.

 

“See you tomorrow night, yeah?” He called over his shoulder as he walked towards the door again. Ian lifted his hand in goodbye, and let it drop to his lap at the same time as the door slammed closed. Ian’s blinking was slow, his body still for a moment before the low buzzing of his cellphone tugged him out of the state.

 

Ian swallowed, turning his body slightly to the right so that he could unzip his bag, finding the device, immediately pressing accept when he saw the name lighting up the screen.

 

“Hey, Mands” He spoke into the receiver.

 

 _“Hey, where are you?”_ Her voice rassled through the line. There was a slight crackly sound pouring into Ian’s ear, suggesting to him that she was outside somewhere.

 

“Work; I had to go in a little bit early” Ian half-lied. “Why?” He lazily toyed with the edge of the grey t shirt that was hanging from his shoulders, covering his upper body.

 

 _“Fucking damn it”_ Mandy cursed, voice shaking a little bit. Ian’s lips parted slightly as he got ready to ask her what was wrong, but she started speaking before he got the chance to utter the words. _“Uh, I needed a ride. But it’s alright, I’ll call Mickey or Iggy”_

 

“Are you sure?” Ian asked carefully. “Maybe I could find a way to take tonight off and come get you” He tried.

 

The truth was that despite the fact that Ian hadn’t formally met Mandy until two weeks ago - less then that even - she was surely one of his best friends by now, and he had never really had anything like that before. She always listened whenever he needed to talk, and somehow - even though they had never said it out loud - he knew that she felt the same way about him.

 

So of course, if Mandy needed Ian, he would drop anything to be there for her. Mainly because he knew that she would do the exact same thing for him, had their roles been reversed.

 

 _“No, no”_ Mandy answered. _“I’ll be fine, I promise. I helped Mickey with something a while back, he owes me.”_

 

“Alright” Ian nodded to himself. “Well, call me if it doesn’t work out, okay? I’ll come pick you up anyway”

 

 _“Thank you”_ She said, voice muffled through the phone. _“I’ll probably be asleep whenever you get off, so I’ll see you tomorrow”_

 

“Yeah, yeah” Ian answered. “See you tomorrow” He touched the red button to end the phone-call, and then he let his hand drop to his lap, leaning his head back against the row of lockers again, deciding to close his eyes for another moment before he had to go out on stage.

 

  
Back when Ian had first started dancing at the club, he had been manic. He barely remembered anything from that period of his life, because he guessed that he had also been popped up on the fuck ton of drugs. It was a miracle that he had survived it, to be quite honest.

 

Once Ian had accepted the fact that he was sick and started taking meds for it - meds that actually worked and made him feel better, that was - he had stopped working at the club, and he hadn’t started again until months later. Fiona hadn’t liked it, of course, and neither had Lip. But eventually Ian had had to force himself to push their opinions aside for his own sake.

 

Yeah, sometimes dancing up on that stage, or grinding on some guy’s lap brought up some old memories. Only flashes, though, of course. But the truth was that he liked being a dancer, so he didn’t mind. For an hour or two - or however long his shift happened to be that particular night - Ian got to be nothing but a body. He got to forget about anything and everything that was going on in his life and get lost in the bass heavy music, the blinking lights and the rolls of his hips.

 

Ian was more than aware of the fact that a lot of people didn’t understand it, especially his family. But he also knew that this was one of those things that he didn’t have to explain to anybody. His job was his business and his alone.

 

Ian painted a teasing smile onto his lips as he ran his flat palms over his naked torso, thrusting his hips slowly, giving the crowd a show. He felt a tiny strand of hair fall down onto his forehead, and he didn’t bother pushing it up again because he knew that it looked good.

 

The music continued to blast throughout the club, so loud that Ian felt as if his eardrums might burst any second now. He had always liked it that way, it gave him less of a chance to hear his own thoughts. Less of a chance to focus on anything but dancing.

 

It wasn’t even about showing off his body - although Ian couldn’t say that he was against that part - it was about just moving his body to the music, letting himself enjoy his own body. Getting lost in the music and the lights, all of it somehow sending him into a whole other dimension than the one where he was sick and nervous.

 

  
A few hours later, though, Ian was finished for the night, and he headed into the lockerroom again, carrying a few bills in his hand, counting the tips that he had collected that particular night. His skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat and grime, but he decided that he would wash that off when he got home. He was way too exhausted to use the club shower - besides, he was pretty sure that if you were to shine a blacklight in there, you would have nightmares for the rest of your life, so whenever he could avoid showering at the club, he did.

 

Instead he just changed out of the small shorts, tugging his original clothes back on as fast as he possibly could, desperate to go home and crawl in under his warm sheets. He ran a tired hand over his face as he stuffed his uniform back into his locker, eyes on the small phone-screen as he checked to make sure he hadn't missed anything. The only thing was a short message from Mandy.

 

 **Mandy:** _Home now, Mickey came and got me. Figured I’d let you know since you worry like a little girl._

 

Ian snorted out loud, dropping his bag onto the bench in front of him, typing out an answer.

 

 **Ian:** _Damn fucking right I worry. But good. See you tomorrow, loser._

 

Ian figured that he was more than allowed to worry about whether Mandy was safe or not, and despite the fact that she made fun of him for it sometimes, he knew that she appreciated it as well. A small breath escaped his lips as he pushed the device deep into his back pocket, grabbing a hold of the black strap, lifting the heavy bag up onto his right shoulder before he started to head out towards the exit of the building.

 

  
The drive from the club back to the house wasn’t too long, but Ian still had to fight to keep his eyes open. As much as he liked his job, he had to admit that it often took a lot out of him. His hands were safely clutching the steering wheel as his mind drifted.

 

Ian’s job had always been his escape from reality, and it worked really well, too. Because in the past few hours, not a single thought of Mickey had drifted throughout his brain. Now, though, when he was alone with the low hum of the engine, of course the man was starting to elbow himself back in.

 

Ian didn’t like this, and he didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand how or why this one man was completely and utterly tearing him apart in this way. Worse? He didn’t know what to do about it. It was pathetic for him to go on like this. Walking around in some kind of haze, doing his best to ignore the man while simultaneously thinking about him almost every single second of every single day.

 

What was even happening? Was he pining for this guy? Was he afraid of this guy? Did he want to fuck Mickey, or did he just want Mickey to go away? Ian didn’t have a single answer, and the fact that he didn’t know was most likely what was bothering him the most.

 

Ian let his eyes drift closed for a second before opening them again, staring out on the road ahead of him. He forced himself to inhale deeply. Then exhale. He repeated the action three times, thankfully feeling it calm his heart down a little bit. As soon as Mickey had slipped back into his head again, his heart had started pounding harder and harder and faster and faster, and he wished oh so badly that his body had chosen somebody else to react that way to.

 

Ian’s throat knotted up a little bit, the base of his stomach rumbling. For once he wished that he was a better liar. Maybe if he had been he would have been able to convince himself that he hated the feeling. But he didn’t. In fact, it felt kind of… pleasant.

 

Maybe he had even felt it before - although on a much smaller scale. The buzzing in his head, the churning in his stomach, the hard and forceful beats of his heart whenever he and Mickey were just even in the same room together.

 

The absolute, bare, unadulterated truth was that Ian had probably known for a while what the reason was. Why his body reacted this way to this one specific man. But it was only on that empty, lonely road at two am that Ian finally let himself admit it. At least silently.

 

Ian wanted Mickey.

 

Fuck if he knew why, usually he only wanted people when he liked who they were on the inside, and he surely didn’t like Mickey’s personality. He didn't like the way that he cursed Ian out for no reason at all. He didn’t like the way that he rolled his eyes or went out of his way to make him uncomfortable.

 

Ian certainly didn’t like the way that Mickey’s voice sounded when he was close to him. So close that he could close his teeth around his earlobe, or run his fingers over his cock, teasing him to the very limit.

 

Fuck.

 

Ian couldn’t think about this, not now. This was not the time. But either way, he knew now that while a part of him might still fear Mickey to some degree, the biggest reason why his entire body seemed to throb whenever they were in the same room together, was because he wanted him.

 

Ian wanted Mickey so fucking bad, and he was going to get him. Somehow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is such a filler chapter, but I don't even care because shit is going to go down in the next one. Get ready.


	5. Now I've Got You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game, a powerstruggle. It had taken Ian quite a while to figure the rules out, but he knew them now - there were none.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song 'Garden' by Halsey fits this chapter incredibly well (at least the first part of it, the rest is just smut lmao) I usually try to stay away from recommending songs for my fics, but if you want to listen to it then maybe that would be good.

By the time Ian was walking up the driveway, his heart was banging against his ribcage again, feeling as if his throat was completely closing up on him. His skin was somehow throbbing with both nervousness and excitement, and he wasn’t even sure why. 

 

Ian knew that Mickey probably wasn’t up this late - or early, technically; he also knew that he would have to figure out a plan and work really fucking hard if he ever wanted to get a chance to fuck Mickey, he couldn’t just go up to him and say ‘You want to fuck?’ that wouldn’t work out, it would be all but C4. This was a game they were playing; it wasn’t spoken, but they both knew it. A game, a powerstruggle. It had taken Ian quite a while to figure the rules out, but he knew them now - there were none. 

 

Ian may not like Mickey as a person, but for some fucking reason he wanted to fuck him. He needed to have him; just once. And he was going to.

 

Since the time was ticking closer and closer to four am, Ian didn’t think much as he twisted his key around in the lock, pushing the door open. Just as he had expected, he entered a silent and completely black house just as he did every single night. A small sigh escaped his lips as he got rid of his jacket, hanging it up on one of the hooks by the door. His bag was still slung over his shoulder as he walked further into the house, cutting through the livingroom to head up towards his room. 

 

Something made him freeze up, though. His heart started picking up the pace even a little bit more, throwing itself against his ribcage surely two or three times per second. Ian had promised himself that he would no longer be scared - or at least acknowledge the fear that he carried around for Mickey, but damn it it was difficult. Because as attracted as Ian was to the man, and no matter how much time he spent thinking this over and figuring it all out - when he actually laid eyes on him, he froze up. Literally. He felt as if his entire body just grew completely icecold. 

 

Mickey hadn’t spotted him yet, he was standing against the kitchen island, back turned towards the taller man as he continued typing on his computer, looking as if he was getting ready to close it up and go to bed. Ian swallowed. Right as he had parked the car outside of the house, he had decided that he would no longer avoid Mickey. It was childish and it was pathetic. He wasn’t dangerous - had he been, the rest of the people in the house surely would have had a problem with him, but they didn’t. 

 

Then again, Ian seemed to be the only person that Mickey had a problem with himself and despite the fact that Mandy had said he just needed time, Ian now knew that that wasn’t all. This was more. So much more. 

 

“Why don’t you take a fucking picture, huh?” 

 

A week ago, Ian would have been surprised that Mickey somehow knew he was there, but now he didn’t jump quite as high as he had that first day. That didn’t mean that his heart didn’t speed up, though, banging against his ribs with enough force that it actually hurt a little bit. Ian didn’t answer his nemesis, so Mickey eventually folded his laptop closed, turning around, leaning against the kitchen island. His eyebrows were raised, mouth pulled into a smirk that could be described as nothing less than challenging. 

 

Thanks to the blackness covering the room and the space separating them, Ian couldn’t see Mickey too well, but he did catch some kind of glimmer in his eyes. It wasn't challenging, it wasn’t terrifying, it was… playful. They were completely silent for a few beats as they studied each other, air so tense that you could surely slit it with a butcher knife. Ian swallowed, and then suddenly, he heard himself speak; 

 

“I want an answer” Mickey’s eyebrows traveled further up his forehead as the words registered in his brain; Ian couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud of the surprise visible in the blue eyes as the younger man took a few steps closer, ending up almost close enough that he could reach a hand out and grip Mickey’s shirt - he didn’t, though. Of course he didn’t. 

 

Mickey tilted his head slightly to the side, obviously amused by Ian’s sudden burst of confidence around him. Then again - Mickey wasn’t aware of how terrified Ian really was on the inside. Except for that ambush in the kitchen, they had never been this close and there was an obvious tension in between them. A tension made up of something other than fear. 

 

“An answer to what?” Mickey played dumb, and Ian swallowed. He so very badly wanted to take everything back. He wanted to run up the stairs and label this as a dream, but somehow he had ended up here, confronting Mickey about their silent game in the middle of the night; he couldn’t cower down now. He wouldn’t. 

 

“What the fuck are we doing?” It was such a simple and obvious question, really. What were they doing? This quiet game of cat and mouse, this teasing, this tension - what was it? Was it Mickey praying on the new addition to the family, was it him somehow wanting to get Ian’s attention, what? Ian had no fucking idea, and he needed to know. Now. 

 

Mickey blinked up at him, the moonlight sippering in through the glass of the backdoor making the jewelry in his eyebrow glimmer. Ian did his best to ignore how the view made his stomach stir in a way that was anything other than fear.

 

In a way, Ian had always known that Mickey was hot - ever since the first time he had laid eyes on the man. But now, standing here in the dark kitchen, big, blacklined blue eyes looking up at Ian, Ian had to admit that Mickey wasn’t just hot, he was… fucking beautiful.

 

Ian swallowed. At some point he had stepped even a little bit closer and now their clothed chests were only inches from one another, and barely that. His mouth was dry as Mickey continued to stay silent, not uttering a single word to answer Ian’s question. Mickey’s lips were parted, yet he somehow managed to keep the playful, sexy smirk. 

 

Except for the tiny stream of moonlight, the house was completely black and so quiet that Mickey could surely hear Ian’s heart beating. 

 

“Huh?” Ian tried pushing for an answer, even though by now both of them knew exactly what they were doing. Mickey stayed silent for a second, and Ian swallowed in anticipation. He had no fucking idea what was coming, but somehow he could feel Mickey thinking. 

 

Their eyes were glued to each other’s, Ian’s white v-neck hanging dangerously close to Mickey’s black wifebeater. Mickey’s tongue darted out to wet his own lips as the tension in between them somehow grew even tighter. The act was slower than it needed to be, and despite the fact that Ian knew exactly what the older man was doing, he had no choice but to take the bait, gaze shifting down to the wet muscle, his cock starting to stir ever so slightly. 

 

Ian’s breath hitched when Mickey’s tattoo covered hands were placed onto his hips, the heat traveling right through the thin cotton fabric to his skin. There it was again; that lightening on his skin, that particular way in which his guts started to churn. Those butterflies in his stomach. That terrifyingly intense connection in between them. 

 

Ian lifted his gaze, green eyes once again locking with blue. The smirk stayed on Mickey’s lips as he slowly got up on his toes; Ian’s heart started beating faster and faster and harder and harder the closer their faces got, but he seemed to be completely unable to do anything but stand completely still, his lips slightly parted. 

 

Mickey’s top lip nudged Ian’s as he sank his teeth down into his bottom one, biting it teasing, tugging at it as he sank back down onto his feet. A small, barely audible groan escaped Ian’s throat at the stinging that appeared when Mickey’s teeth grazed across his skin, finally letting go of his lip, letting it fall back into place. 

 

Mickey’s hands were still placed onto Ian’s hips, all but burning his skin through the fabric as he raised an eyebrow, a playful glimmer in his eyes as if to say ‘Your turn’.

 

Maybe Ian should have walked away; maybe he should have turned the tables on Mickey, but in this moment, he didn’t have the strength to do such a thing. He certainly hadn’t planned on getting here with the tattoo covered man so quickly, but here they were. 

 

And he did the only thing he possibly could; he brought a hand up to the side of Mickey’s neck, his thumb pressing slightly at the bend where his neck turned into his chin and he dipped his head down, capturing those perfect, plump lips in a slow, deep, searing kiss that made his entire body throb in the best possible way. 

 

He could feel the chill of Mickey’s lip ring pressing against the inside of his lip, and somehow it made the experience all the better. The second their lips touched, everything made sense. 

 

This was it. 

 

They didn’t pull away or go in for more, they just kept their lips resting together, both pairs of eyes shut as their stomach stirred with butterflies violent enough that it somehow hurt ever so slightly. Ian realized that having Mickey’s lips slipped in between his own felt better than anything he had ever experienced in the past. It felt so fucking right, and yet somehow so wrong - which made it feel all the more right. Ian couldn’t explain it at all, he couldn’t possibly ever be able to explain what he felt for this beautiful man. He was crude, and he was rude and he was annoying as fuck, and - fuck, he wanted him. 

 

The back of his hand was still pressing slightly against the front of Mickey’s neck as their lips slowly slipped apart, neither of them quite knowing what to do next. Everything was so confusing and overwhelming. Both men were silent for a second, eye contact burning in between them. 

 

“That what you want?” Ian finally gathered up the courage to ask, their faces still close enough that Mickey could feel his breath fanning his lips. 

 

With that kiss, something in between them seemed to have snapped. Mickey was no longer the obvious boss, the man who held every single one of the cards - Ian had taken over, and somehow Mickey was more than happy to let him. Ian took a step closer, their clothed bodies pressing together all the way from their knees up to their chests. 

 

“That what you want?” Ian asked again, completely towering over the shorter man, his tongue darting out to wet his own lips as Mickey for once seemed to be completely speechless. He swallowed, his head finally moving up and down a time or two. 

 

“Yes” Mickey managed, mouth dry, voice rough as he felt the puma inside of his body ripping him apart, screaming - craving - Ian. A small smirk stretched its way across Ian’s lips as he enjoyed this newfound power, feeling every single ounce of fear inside of him being washed away and replaced with lust - need, desperation. 

 

“We’re doing this…” Ian started, voice not much steadier than Mickey’s as his gaze flickered back and forth from the delicious lips to the beautiful, deep blue eyes. “We’re doing it my way” He stated, his hand still pressing slightly against the shorter man’s neck. His stomach was positively burning with desire and he was nothing if not completely certain that he had never in his entire life craved something or somebody as badly as he was currently craving Mickey. 

 

Mickey stayed silent, eyes boring into the green pair, mesmerised by the beauty. His hands were still resting safely on Ian’s hips as Ian brought his tongue out again, licking his lips, making sure to do it slowly, pulling Mickey’s previous trick. Finally, Mickey felt his cock grow way too hard to wait, so he finally just agreed. 

 

“Yes, fuck” He spoke roughly before getting up onto his toes again, chasing after Ian’s lips, though the taller man put a little bit more pressure on his adams-apple, stopping his actions. The small smirk returned to Ian’s lips as he watched the desperation and confusion paint Mickey’s features. 

 

“I decide” He continued, voice dark with desire. “Whatever it is, you do whatever I say” Ian demanded, his cock stirring at the mere thought of having this man - this pitbull - bent over for him. Begging, throbbing. Fuck, the things he could do; he dug his teeth into his bottom lip at his own thoughts, his heart banging against his ribcage. 

 

“Yes” Mickey agreed breathlessly after a beat of silence, fingertips digging into Ian’s hips ever so slightly, letting him know that he couldn’t bare waiting for much longer, he needed this, and he needed this now. They both did. “You’re the fucking boss” 

 

With those words, Ian went in for the kill; dipping his head down, smashing their lips together in a complete mess of saliva, tongues, teeth and passion. In fact, this kiss was even better than the last one because neither of them were teasing at this moment, they weren’t holding anything back. Ian kept his hand on Mickey’s neck as he ran his tongue over the inside of the upper row of his teeth, tickling the roof of his mouth. A small groan escaped one of them as the kiss became even a little bit deeper, wetter. Mickey’s hands curled into fists, bringing the thin, white cotton fabric into them, attempting to tug the taller man even closer to him, as if that would be possible at this point. 

 

Ian pulled away for a second, tilting his head to the other side before he went in again, pure electricity traveling all throughout their bodies as their tongues collided again. Mickey rolled his hips a little bit, attempting to create some friction in between their trapped erections. Everything - all of the insults, looks, all of the tension - was released into that kiss, all of it being transformed into pure, burning passion. Connection. 

 

Mickey repeated his previous action of tugging at Ian’s bottom lip, only this time he did it that much more harder, dragging a loud groan out of him. 

 

“Shhh…” Mickey whispered, licking over his teeth-marks to soothe the pain before he went in for an even deeper kiss, both of them surely looking like cannibals or some shit at this point. It was as if they couldn’t possibly use too much tongue, couldn’t possibly make the kiss deep enough; that’s how badly they craved each other. How badly they craved everything with each other. 

 

Ian finally let go of Mickey’s neck in favor of slipping both of his hands in under his wifebeater, sliding them up his body. Mickey groaned into his mouth, appreciating the touch. Their tongues continued sliding over each other, every single one of their senses being completely clouded by the other man.

 

Soon, they were forced to pull apart, Mickey lifting his arms up in the air so that Ian could easily peel his shirt off, throwing it to the side. As soon as he was free, Mickey placed a hand on the back of the taller man’s neck, crashing their lips back together, completely unable to get anything that even resembled close to enough. Ian hummed into it, feeling nothing but a warm, vibrating, pulsing feeling traveling throughout his entire body. 

 

Mickey’s hand curled back into a fist, tugging slightly at the red strands at the back of Ian’s neck, somehow wanting to deepen the kiss even further.

 

“Off” He mumbled roughly into Ian’s mouth, his free hand tugging slightly at the white fabric. Ian made a small sound of agreement and they pulled apart long enough for him to reach his arms behind himself, ridding himself of the v-neck, letting it join Mickey’s wifebeater somewhere on the floor. 

 

Some other time, Ian surely would have wanted to stop and admire the ink stretched across Mickey’s chest, try to figure him out by what he had chosen to put onto his body for the rest of his life. Some other time that was, because right now they were both way too caught up in the burning need they had for each other, they weren’t stopping, not for one single second. 

 

Ian’s lips were starting to ache in that perfect way that only a really good, hot makeup session could make them. Mickey continued to tug at his hair, bringing him down even deeper into the kiss, their tongues clumsily sliding over each other, some saliva surely being spread out over the skin surrounding their mouths. 

 

Mickey’s left hand was now on Ian’s back, pressing him slightly closer, feeling the muscles tense and relax as they devoured each other’s mouths. Ian’s palms were rested against the sides of Mickey’s face, cupping his head, making it easy for him to make the kiss as deep and as dirty and delicious as possible. Both of their cocks were hurting by now, completely begging for attention; it was just really fucking difficult to break the kiss, it felt too amazing to finally be able to do what they had   
subconsciously been craving for the past two weeks. 

 

Finally though, Ian managed; he broke away from the kiss, sucking Mickey’s bottom lip in between his own as he did, letting it go with a plop. A small noise of appreciation escaped the shorter man’s throat as Ian sank down onto his knees, running his flat palms all the way down along his ink-covered body as he went, feeling every single muscle and dip of his skin. 

 

Ian blinked up at Mickey, easily undoing his jeans. A small smirk was stretched out across the shorter man’s lips, heart thrumming against his ribcage in anticipation. Ian placed his hands onto his hips, pushing his pants down along with his boxers, dragging a low groan out of Mickey’s throat as the pressure disappeared from his cock. 

 

Ian’s tongue darted out again, wetting his own lips; their eyes stayed connected as he wasted no time taking Mickey into his mouth, swallowing down almost two thirds of his perfect cock all at once. 

 

“Oh, fuck” Mickey moaned lowly, his hands falling into the red hair as he closed his eyes, unable to focus on anything other than the feeling of Ian’s hot, tight mouth working around his cock, his tongue teasingly massaging across the slit in the tip. 

 

Ian felt the tight pull of Mickey tugging at the roots of his hair, and it gave him even a little bit more self confidence as he sped up, bobbing his head at a fast pace, knowing very well how absolutely crazy he was driving the older man.

 

He had only meant to tease Mickey with one or two licks, but for some reason he kept sucking; he loved the heavy feel of his cock on his tongue, the slight tinge of precome covering his tongue. The small, short groans escaping Mickey’s lips. 

 

Finally though, Ian hollowed his cheeks, sucking extra hard as he slowly pulled off of Mickey’s cock, letting it fall out of his mouth with a plop. He heard a small groan fall out from in between the shorter man’s lips at the act, and he pressed a wet, sloppy kiss to the tattoo covered skin stretched across his hip bone before he stood up again, Mickey’s hand falling to the back of his neck as their lips crashed together again, neither of them able to keep away from it. It felt too right to kiss; tasted too good. 

 

Their tongues slid sloppily over each other’s, Ian sliding his hand down Mickey’s back, drinking in every dip, every shape before he finally got to his ass, moaning at how fucking perfect it felt in his palm; round and firm. 

 

Ian swallowed Mickey’s thick groan, tightening his hold on the flesh, kneading it roughly, feeling the shorter man push into his touch, silently asking for more as they continued to devour each other’s mouths. Ian pressed a few more, deep, searing kisses to Mickey’s perfect lips before he pulled away enough to speak, his breath fanning the punk’s tongue. 

 

“Turn around” Ian spoke roughly. “Bend over” Mickey groaned at how beautiful the demand sounded falling out from in between Ian’s lips, and he tightened his hold on the back of his neck, pressing one last, wet, dirty kiss to them before obeying his order, stepping out of his remaining clothes as he went. 

 

Ian backed up a step or two, feeling the need to take a moment to observe Mickey; he looked so fucking perfect, so sexy as he bent over the kitchen island, exposing his ass to the younger man, his back curving ever so slightly as he waited for his touch. 

 

“You look so fucking good” Ian just barely recognised his own voice for it was too rough and gravely; maybe even choppy and weak. Who could blame him, though? He had always known how fucking attractive Mickey was, whether he had chosen to acknowledge that fact or not. 

 

But now, when he had him like this, horny and bent over - he looked so much better than Ian ever could have imagined. His entire body was covered in tattoos - literally from his ankle up to his neck - yet his ass was the perfect bubble but, just begging for Ian to fuck it. 

 

“Are you gonna fuck it or just keep - “ Mickey was cut off by a loud, heavy slap delivered to his right cheek, making him howl out in appreciation. “Fuck!” He cursed, head spinning at the sudden act. 

 

“My way, remember?” Ian asked, voice a lot deeper now, steadier as he somehow drifted back into character, stepping closer to the man in front of him. Mickey swallowed, nodding his head. 

 

“Yeah, fuck. Okay.” Ian hummed at the words, undoing his pants and getting rid of them along with his boxers, if only to get rid of the painful pressure on his erection; otherwise, for now, he ignored himself, focusing only on Mickey. 

 

He placed his hand on the small of his back, slowly sliding his hand down over his left cheek, starting to knead it roughly, feeling the perfect, - originally pale - flesh under his hand. Mickey said nothing more, and instead just pushed into the touch, dipping his head, eyes drifting closed. Right when he was least expecting it, Ian gave him another hard spank, this one probably even harder than the previous one. 

 

A loud, guttural groan fell out of Mickey’s mouth before his lips were tugged up into a happy smirk, wanting even more. 

 

“You fucking like that, don’t you?” Ian asked, voice still deep; rough. Mickey was completely unable to do anything but moan a clouded ‘Yes’ in response. Ian hummed, eyes traveling over his exposed body, a steady dribble of precome sliding down his own shaft at the sight. He looked so fucking good; better than anything else Ian had ever seen in his entire life. 

 

Ian gave Mickey’s ass two more loud, heavy slaps before he sank down onto his knees, using his hands to separate his cheeks. Mickey’s stomach started stirring in anticipation right as he realized what Ian was about to do. The large hands continued to knead his ass as he felt a hot, determined tongue lick across his puckered hole. 

 

Ian kept Mickey’s pale flesh in a strong hold, working his tongue over his ass, hearing moans and groans, along with the occasional muffled ‘fuck’ fall out of his mouth. Mickey continued pushing back against the muscle, craving even more as Ian placed his lips firmly around the hole, sucking slightly as he worked his tongue around in smooth, teasing circles. 

 

Ian’s entire body was buzzing in anticipation by now; this was really fucking happening. He had Mickey Milkovich bent over in front of him, physically begging for his touch. It made his heart throb against his ribcage although for a whole other reason than previously in the week. 

 

Ian continued kneading Mickey’s ass as he ate him out, going in deeper and deeper, soon enough working his tongue inside of him, feeling his muscles clench around him, making his head spin at the thought of how fucking amazing it would feel to have his cock int here when they got to it. There were other things he wanted to do first; he wanted to drive Mickey absolutely crazy, make him beg. 

 

By now Ian was eating Mickey’s ass with enough enthusiasm that it sounded as if they were still making out mouth to mouth. Small, wet clicks traveled out into the room whenever he pulled away so that he could go in for even more. 

 

Mickey had his head dipped down, resting against his closed fists on the kitchen island as he pushed back against the wet, perfect feeling of Ian’s tongue rimming the fuck out of him. He practically zero control of the moans and cries that were escaping his mouth, but at this point he was way too far gone to give a fuck; this felt too good. Ian was way too talented for him to be able to focus on anything other than his mouth and tongue. 

 

Ian tightened his hold on Mickey’s ass, kneading the shaded flesh a little bit rougher for a second. He continued eating him out as he let go of his right cheek, bringing his hand up a bit, waiting for a short beat before letting it slam down again, sound echoing throughout the kitchen along with Mickey’s howl of a reaction. 

 

Mickey was all but in pieces as Ian continued to drive him crazy with his tongue, eating him out as deep and as dirtily as he possibly could. Without any warning, he soon felt a finger slip inside of him, Ian’s tongue never leaving his rim. A low groan sounded in his throat. Ian’s finger was perfect, long and thin. 

 

The way Ian was still eating Mickey’s ass caused more smacks to travel out into the kitchen, blending with Mickey’s groans and moans. He moved his finger in and out of him, head spinning at how perfectly his muscles felt, clenching and unclenching around his digit. 

 

Without much thought he slid another finger in next to it, hearing Mickey’s loud moan of appreciation as he picked up the pace a little bit, fucking him open while his tongue still danced around the rim. The saliva trapped in between the fingers and Mickey’s inner walls created the occasional wet sounding click; Ian soon slowed his movements down a little bit, pulling his face away, the rimming stopping for now as he watched Mickey’s perfect ass envelop his fingers. 

 

It looked so fucking perfect, he took it so good that Ian almost contemplated just saying fuck it and fuck him right now - he didn’t, though; he wanted to have some more fun first. 

 

“This looks so fucking good” Mickey groaned at the words, starting to move his hips backwards to meet Ian’s slow movements, wanting more - craving more. “Stop” Ian mumbled, though, so he did; knowing that obeying was the only way he would ever get to take Ian’s cock. And he wanted Ian’s cock so bad. 

 

Ian was completely mesmerized at how good Mickey’s pink rim looked stretched around his fingers; soon, he hooked them a little bit, letting the pads of his fingertips scratch against the older man’s inner walls, feeling every dip and pattern. 

 

“Oh - “ Mickey hiccuped. “Fuck” The word was held out into a long, dark groan as he started pushing backwards again, this felt too fucking good already. Ian’s mouth felt a little bit dry as the sound registered in his brain, and he straightened his fingers out again, fucking Mickey with them two or three more times before he added a third finger, making sure to be a little bit more careful with this one being that they weren’t using any lube just yet. 

 

His left hand was still kneading Mickey’s cheek as he moved his fingers in and out of him, knowing full well how crazy the slow pace combined with the slight sting of the stretch was starting to drive him. Ian curled his fingers again, head spinning at the perfect feeling of Mickey’s inner walls closing around his digits as he picked up a little bit more speed, fucking him open, good and ready to take his cock. 

 

Mickey’s eyes were clenched closed in pleasure, knuckles turning white as he felt a steady stream of precome leak down from the head of his cock, begging for attention. His stomach was completely knotting up, and he was starting to become desperate for some kind of release. 

 

Ian moved his fingers in and out of Mickey before he carefully slid them out of him, standing up, feeling his own legs start to become a little shaky at the intensity of what they were doing - and they weren’t even technically fucking yet. 

 

“Fuck!” Mickey shouted as a slap even more powerful than the ones he had received previously was delivered to his right cheek; he couldn’t help but arch his back, silently begging for more. Ian thankfully took the hint and gave it to him, seeing the small pockets of white skin turn read at the abuse. 

 

Ian’s heart was positively throwing itself against his ribcage, his cock surely turning completely red at the sight of Mickey bent over for him, begging to be spanked. This was way beyond his wildest imagination. He looked too good, his moans and groans sounded too good and it was all becoming way too much for Ian to handle. 

 

He kept his right hand on Mickey’s right cheek, moving it, kneading the skin roughly as he lifted his left hand, letting it ram back down, pushing a loud howl out of Mickey’s throat, his head dipping down, forehead pressing against the top of his clenched fist as he arched his back even further, pushing his ass out, wanting even more. 

 

“You fucking like that?” Ian asked, giving him two more loud, powerful slaps. Mickey could do nothing but groan and moan in response, eyes completely clenched shut, head buzzing in the best way.

 

Soon, Ian got an idea, and he let go of Mickey for a second or two; just long enough that he could bend over and retrieve the belt still hooked through the loops of his jeans. When he had it, he got a good grip on the item before he placed his hand back onto Mickey’s left cheek, lifting his right hand, letting the belt smack down onto his right one. 

 

A howl - louder than any of the sound he had made previously - shot out through Mickey’s mouth, surprised at the sudden, painful, stinging feeling. A belt was so much different than a warm palm, it hurt so much worse. But then again, it was also such an amazing kind of pain that he couldn’t help but love it. It echoed throughout his body, and while he was more than aware of the fact that he probably wouldn’t be able to sit down tomorrow, it was oh so much more than worth it. 

 

“You look so fucking - good” The last word, Ian accentuated with another hard rip of the belt, this time on Mickey’s right cheek. “Fucking - taking it” He continued. 

 

By the fifth or sixth rap of the belt, Mickey’s eyes were starting to tear up at the pain, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask Ian to stop, he loved it too much. It felt so fucking good to be punished like this, so be hit and taken advantage of yet somehow having it under his own control, because somehow he just knew that if he asked Ian to stop, he would. In a heartbeat. 

 

Ian could see Mickey’s ass turning a little bit too red, his legs starting to shake, so he let the belt drop to the floor right next to him, bending down to pick up the small tube lube he always kept on him just in case. He could hear Mickey’s heavy breathing as he recovered, and it made him frown. Taking a belt wasn’t something for everyone. 

 

“You alright?” He heard himself asking - he couldn’t help it. As much kinky shit as he was into, he would never want to hurt another person in a way that they didn’t enjoy, that had never been him and that never would be him. 

 

“Fucking amazing, man” Mickey breathed thickly, and Ian took that as a green light. He poured some lube out onto three of his fingers, letting the tube drop to the floor before he took a step or two closer to the shorter man, easily sliding his digits back into his already stretched hole, feeling him swallow him up just as perfectly as he had before. 

 

Small moans kept falling out of Mickey’s mouth as Ian started stretching him out, scissoring his fingers back and forth to make sure that he would be able to take his cock without much pain. He easily fucked him at a medium pace, not making it soft but also not going way too fast - he’d save that for later. His free hand was now placed onto Mickey’s left cheek, kneading the flesh roughly, dragging more moans and groans out of his mouth. 

 

He still had his forehead resting against his closed fist as he started rocking backwards against Ian’s movements, craving even more. It didn’t take very long before Ian had had it with waiting and teasing; he eased his fingers out of Mickey, feeling his muscles work around the digits until the last possible second.

 

A soft, slightly disappointed moan fell out of Mickey’s mouth at the loss, but he barely had the time to complain before Ian’s cock was inside of him - not a single warning. A low, guttural moan made its way up Ian’s throat his hand holding Mickey’s hips in a firm, secure grip as he completely buried himself inside of the punk, bottoming out with one single, mean stroke. 

 

Mickey was still resting his upper body on the counter-island, pressing himself back against Ian, the slight pain of his bare cock stretching him out mixing with the delicious, immense pleasure making his head spin like a fucking race car, his heart banging against his ribcage. 

 

Ian stayed still for only a short beat before he tightened his hold on the older man, rolling his hips backwards and then slamming back in with little to no mercy whatsoever. Mickey would surely have huge, dark, hand shaped bruises on his hips tomorrow, but for now it was worth it.

 

Loud, cracked cries fell from Mickey’s lips as Ian continued fucking the shit out of him, stabbing him with his cock over and over and over again, both of their visions starting to blue with the force. Mickey could do nothing but keep clenching his fists and hope that he would be conscious when this was over because this all had to be the most intense fucking session he had ever had and as many visible scars as he would surely have in the morning, it felt so much more than amazing. 

 

He felt as if his entire body was being turned into a pile of nothing but bones and ashes, any and all thoughts disappearing from his head as Ian rolled his hips, pistoling into him as fast and as hard as he possibly could. Mickey was so gone, brain so fuzzy that he was just barely aware of all of the howls and curses tumbling out of his filthy mouth. This felt too good - Ian stabbing his prostate over and over and over again felt better than anything he had ever experienced before in his entire life, and if he could stay in this moment forever, he fucking would. 

 

Ian’s gaze was stuck on the upper part of Mickey’s back, watching the ink shapes stretch and being pulled back together as the muscles under his skin moved. It was so fucking beautiful. And Ian could feel his perfect ass work around his cock, enveloping him, the red hot heat welcoming him with every single thrust as they both tumbled closer and closer to the edge, more and more curses falling out of both of their mouths. 

 

Mickey’s sounds got louder and louder and louder, and eventually, Ian had to wrap his left arm around his waist, pulling him up so that his back was pressed flat against his chest as he continued thrusting with everything that he had. He then brought his right hand up to his face, pressing his palm flat against Mickey’s mouth, muffling his sounds. Ian kept the smaller man in his steady grip, making sure that he was just barely able to move whatsoever as his cock continued stabbing at his prostate. 

 

A small tear ran down Mickey’s face at the immense pleasure; there was nothing he could do other than take Ian’s cock, in fact, had someone walked in on them, it probably would have looked as if Ian was raping him, but of course that wasn’t the case. Mickey wanted this more than anything, his very being was crumbling with lust and need for the man behind him. 

 

He could just barely breathe through the small cracks in between Ian’s fingers as they both felt their highs grow closer and closer, their cocks all but vibrating with the need for release. Mickey continued screaming into Ian’s hand, having the confidence to be even louder now that his sounds were muffled. 

 

Ian rolled his hips two more times, extra force behind the movements before he finally tightened his hold on Mickey even further; his body freezing up, face buried in the crook of Mickey’s shoulder as he stayed completely buried inside of the older man, filling him up with his come. Mickey moaned into his hand, eyes clenched closed as he felt the hot, sticky liquid splash against his insides, feeling it was some kind of reward. 

 

It went on for a little bit longer than what was normal, Ian digging his teeth into the shaded skin, thousands of tiny stars traveling before his eyes before it was finally over and he started regaining some of his consciousness, lifting his face from Mickey’s back. 

 

“Come for me” Ian let his right hand fall off of Mickey’s mouth and down to his waist again as he continued thrusting into him, inching him closer to the edge with every single movement. Both of their bodies were covered in a thick layer of grime and sweat by now. 

 

It didn’t take more than a half a dozen thrusts before finally Mickey was there as well, coming with a loud howl, shaking through his orgasm; feeling his heart start to speed up even more, throwing itself against his ribcage, legs turning into nothing but complete rubber. Ian picked up on his shakiness and wrapped his arms all the way around his waist, stopping his movements as Mickey’s vision shifted in a way that wasn’t all too pleasant. His cock was still releasing ridiculous amount of come, but his head felt hazey. 

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Baby, I got you” Ian couldn't help but assure his bottom as he tightened his hold around his body, keeping him on his feet, not letting go until the orgasm had passed and Mickey was starting to regain some of the feeling throughout his body again. 

 

Mickey fell forwards, bending back over the kitchen island as he fought to regain the last of his breath. Ian kept his left hand on his waist as he slowly eased his soft cock out of his used hole, both of them wincing slightly at the foreign feeling of being disconnected again. It didn’t take more than a second or two before a steady, beautiful stream of Ian’s come started leaking out of Mickey’s ass, pouring down the back of his thigh. 

 

“Fuck” Ian couldn’t help but breathe as he sank down onto his knees again, stretching his tongue out, licking a thick strip up from the back of Mickey’s knee up to his gaping, fucked out hole, gathering some of the semen into his mouth. Mickey let out a low moan at the feeling, still fighting to get his daze of a mind back on track. 

 

Ian bent over Mickey’s body, making the shorter man turn his head to look at him, quickly getting the hint. Their mouths connected, tongues easily sliding over each other’s, the salty taste of Ian’s come blending in between them as they melted into the now well practiced action. Ian hummed lowly, the stirring in his stomach starting up once again. Fuck, how had he ever been afraid of this man? He was sexy as all hell. 

 

Ian soon forced himself to break the kiss, though, and he grabbed a hold of his own cock, sliding it through the white substance on Mickey’s thigh, messily making sure that he got enough on there. Then he took a step back, looking at the older man. 

 

“Clean me up” He demanded, just wanting to get one last thing in before the sun came up. Although Mickey looked completely exhausted and more than fucked out by now, his mouth couldn’t help but water at the mere thought of feeling the weight of Ian’s huge cock on his tongue, so he obeyed, pushing himself off of the island and sinking down onto his knees in front of him. 

 

Ian let his hands hang freely by his sides as the beautiful blue eyes blinked up at him; Mickey looked so fucking good as he took him into his mouth, immediately hollowing his cheeks as he swallowed him down, bobbing his head a time or two, making sure that he had gotten all of the leftover come off before he pulled off again.

 

Ian bent down, placing his hands onto either side of his waist, helping him stand up on his still wobbly legs. When they were at roughly the same height again, Ian couldn’t help placing his hands onto the sides of Mickey’s face again, holding it as he brought him in for a soft, tender kiss, their lips slightly parted. 

 

Mickey directly responded, sliding his tongue expertly over Ian’s, that buzzing in the very pit of his stomach just as strong as it had been an hour before. Ian couldn’t quite believe how right this felt - then again, it felt so wrong, but that made it all the better. His heart was pulsing against his ribcage with every single movements of their lips, but now he knew why that was. It wasn’t because he was terrified of Mickey - it was because he liked him. So much. 

 

The tattooed arm was securely wrapped around his waist, bringing their naked bodies as close together as they could possibly come as they continued to explore each other’s mouths. Finally, though, Ian forced himself to break it, both pairs of eyes slowly fluttering open, eye contact being sealed in between them. 

 

“So, this… us…” Ian started awkwardly, voice shaking - what do you even say after a fuck like that? There was literally no way for it not to be awkward. His voice was rough as he continued. “You feel it too?” 

 

At those words, Mickey let go of Ian, placing his hands onto his wrists, lifting them off of his face. 

 

“Don’t fucking flatter yourself, Gallagher” He spoke; then he bent down, picking up his clothes from the floor. Ian turned around just in time to see Mickey disappear up the stairs, a loud and sad sigh slipping out through his lips. 

 

Apparently his carriage had turned into a pumpkin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fiction, kids. Use a condom. 
> 
> Also, I really didn't think that I would end up posting this chapter today, so *self five*.


	6. Work of Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite Mickey’s cold non-greetings, his nasty choices of insults and the way he sometimes just seemed to stare right through Ian - Ian couldn’t quite shake the feeling of… fondness. Mickey was like some kind of work of art, or a piece of lyric that you had to fight to really understand, but when you did… fuck it was amazing.

The ice cold water poured down over Ian’s sore body as he did his best to keep his head from flashing him pictures of last nights events. The few hours of sleep he had been able to catch hadn’t done much, he felt restless and he doubted that said sleep had been very deep at all. He was way too confused - too conflicted - to relax. You see, Ian knew now that he liked Mickey, he liked him so fucking much and he had a feeling that the truth was that the other man felt the same way. Ian just desperately wished that he could somehow get inside of Mickey’s head and figure out what game he was playing.

 

While Ian may be into Mickey, he had no real reason for it. Mickey was hardcore, he was rude and nasty - not in a good way. In fact, Ian couldn’t really think of one single time that he had talked to him without trying to either be mean, or make him uncomfortable. So why Ian was turning out to become so fucking hung up on this guy, he didn’t know. But he was - especially after last night.

 

The way Mickey had been bent over than island, Ian absolutely slamming into him. The darkness surrounding them, making it all seem like some kind of a dream, or maybe an illusion. The beautiful sounds tumbling out of his mouth, the perfect way his muscles had clenched around Ian’s cock. The way his tongue had been sliding over his, making Ian’s entire body thrum in happiness.

 

So much for not thinking about last night.

 

A loud sigh managed to trip out the sound of the water for a second as Ian clenched his eyes closed, reaching his right hand up towards his face, running a flat palm over his features as he let the freezing water continue to numb his body, hoping that it would numb some of his feelings for Mickey with it. He couldn’t do this - he couldn’t be crushing - although this honestly felt like more than some crush, damn it - on some punky douchebag who might even laugh if he knew how Ian felt about him. Fuck.

 

Finally, Ian was forced to admit that the shower wasn’t helping at all, if anything it was only giving him more alone time to think about the events that had taken place in the kitchen all but a few hours ago. So he reached forwards, screwing the knob until the water stopped; then he let his eyes drift open as he reached a hand up towards the top of his head, placing the drenched, red strands backwards instead of having them hanging down over his forehead.

 

By the time Ian was dressed and scrubbing his hair dry with a towel, the clock on his phone had just barely ticked past eight am. Usually he slept a lot later, being that he worked nights, but he just hadn’t been able to today. There was way too much shit spinning around in his head for him to relax, much less grow into a deep sleep. It was better for him to be up and walking around.

 

He knew way before he walked down the stairs, though, that getting up earlier meant seeing his roommates - and his roommates included Mickey. As he walked down the hallway towards said staircase, Ian wasn’t sure whether the tumbling in the pit of his stomach was excitement or fear, but he guessed that it was something much worse - both of them combined. He was somehow excited to see his crush after last night, if course he was. But as much as he liked Mickey - however that was possible after everything - he was still a little bit shaky about him in another way as well.

 

It was as if his body couldn’t decide. One minute he had a rockhard boner, and the next his heart was banging so hard against his ribcage that he felt as if he was going to throw up.

 

Much as Ian had anticipated, Mickey was perched by the kitchen island, his laptop out front of him, his fingers moving swiftly over the keys. Mandy was sitting there was well, right next to her brother, scrolling through her phone as she scooped spoonful after spoonful of cereal into her mouth. A few of the other roommates were spread out all over the livingroom as well, easing Ian’s mind ever so slightly.

 

“Morning” He pushed the word out of his mouth as he stepped off of the last step, walking towards the refrigerator. He got the word send back to him from both Mandy and Iggy - Mickey said nothing, of course. The punk didn’t acknowledge Ian’s entry at all, instead he kept his eyes locked on his computer screen, his fingers tapping at a fast pace.

 

A part of Ian thirsted to look at him, to admire the man that he had had all for himself last night. It was a complete blur of sweat, saliva and butterflies. Everything about the events had been perfect - save for how it ended, of course, with Mickey just completely shutting him out like that; it didn’t make much sense but at this point Ian had given up the task of trying to understand Mickey Milkovich - it was nothing short of impossible.

 

The next ten or fifteen minutes ticked by rather slowly; everyone were busy with their own shit - answering emails, tweeting, writing, editing, talking on the phone. Nobody really acknowledged one another. Ian had one hand wrapped around his cup of coffee as he scrolled through his unanswered text messages, trying to figure out which one to respond to first.

 

Fiona wanted to know whether he was coming to the Sunday brunch, but he decided not to open that one right now since he wasn’t sure. As much as he loved his family, he could use Sunday for himself. He hadn’t really had all that much alone time lately. He was always either working or talking to Mandy, or doing something else that did not equal relaxation - even if he did enjoy most other aspects of his life as well.

 

Ian quickly typed back to the other people that had been trying to reach him as he had been asleep; one of his friends some of the people he worked with at the club. When he tugged himself out of his cellphone and looked up, he noticed that the room now was empty save for the two youngest Milkovich siblings. Mandy was standing over by the sink, placing her dirty bowl down into it before she turned around.

 

“I gotta get to work, see you guys later” She spoke, getting a salute from Ian and a grumbled ‘Bye’ from her brother, who was still deep down into whatever he as editing at the moment, looking as he didn’t give a single fuck about the other people in the room.

 

Mandy’s long, blue hair was collected into a ponytail, and it bounced off of her back as he lifted her bag up and hung it over her shoulder, heading towards the front door. When Ian heard the door slam after her, he swallowed, feeling as if he had just gotten a bucket of ice cold water dumped over his body. In a way, he guessed that it didn’t make much sense to still be afraid of Mickey after last night. After having him like that.

 

But Mickey just had this way of building up this tall, thick, terrifying wall around his body; sure, sometimes - like last night - he ripped it down and let people through, but other times - like this morning - it felt harder than ever before. Ian wasn’t quite sure how to handle it, but he wanted to figure it out. He wanted to figure Mickey out.

 

Mickey still didn’t acknowledge the other man as he folded his laptop closed and stood up, walking around to the other side of the kitchen island, dumping the tiny bit of coffee that was left in his cup into the sink before he reached for the milk, placing it back into the cold space of the fridge, acting as if he was completely alone. Finally, Ian’s irritation won out over his slight fear, and he stood up as well, speaking;

 

“Seriously?” He waited a second; maybe even two. Mickey didn’t give him the time of day, didn’t give any indication whatsoever that he had heard the taller man talk. “You’re just gonna pretend like it didn’t happen?” Ian continued, raising his eyebrows as he leaned his side against the kitchen island, praying that Mickey would end up giving him something - anything.

 

Sure enough.

 

Mickey swallowed visibly, placing his dirty bowl into the dishwasher along with his sister’s before he calmly and collectedly turned back around to face his roommate, confused green eyes landing on blackrimmed blue ones. There was a beat of silence - a moment where neither of them moved, neither of them spoke. They just looked. But then;

 

“Whatever the fuck that was, forget about it. You don’t mean dick to me, alright?” Without giving Ian even a second to think of a comeback, Mickey was out of the kitchen; giving him a terrifyingly strong deja vu feeling to last night. Fuck.

 

  
Ian didn’t see Mickey for the rest of the day - which wasn’t an unusual thing. He didn’t see any of his other roommates either, really; they all just kind of went about their routine, and people rarely clashed together in the house despite the fact that it seemed as if they should be stepping on each other’s toes by now.

 

As much as Ian did his best to avoid it - of course Mickey’s words were stuck inside of his head. ‘You don’t mean dick to me’. What the fuck did that even mean? Was it true? Because Ian was fairly certain that he couldn’t say the same thing back. Mickey did mean something to him, regardless of how fucked up it was after how he was treating him. Despite Mickey’s cold non-greetings, his nasty choices of insults and the way he sometimes just seemed to stare right through Ian - Ian couldn’t quite shake the feeling of… fondness. Mickey was like some kind of work of art, or a piece of lyric that you had to fight to really understand, but when you did… fuck it was amazing.

 

The way Mickey’s tongue had slid over Ian’s the night before, the way their bodies had melted into one. The way his soft moans had poured out into the kitchen, and the way their hands had gripped on each other… all of it. That connection that had seemed to be stuck in between them. The passion, the… pre-face love? No matter what Mickey said; he couldn’t fake that.

 

The clock was ticking closer and closer to two am, and Ian knew that he should be asleep by now, but it seemed to be impossible to get there. Instead he was on his back in the middle of his bed, staring out into the darkness. His mind was completely spinning around and around and around - not a single thought inside of his mushy brain that wasn’t related to Mickey.

 

Ian had felt a lot of things in his like regarding guys and men. He had felt attraction, connection, all of it. But with Mickey… there was just something about this man that he couldn’t shake - something… more? He may be about as pleasant as a fireant, but there was still something that drew Ian to him. Maybe it was the tattoos, or the piercings. Maybe it was the eyeliner, or the deep blue eyes. Maybe it was the tight wifebeaters he always wore - or maybe, just maybe - it was something that didn’t have anything to do with his physical appearance whatsoever. Maybe it was something even deeper. Something Ian was yet to put his finger on.

 

Just as if Ian had been speaking his thoughts out loud, his phone started vibrating on the nightstand next to his bed, the screen showing Mickey’s name. Mandy - since she was kind of the ‘mother’ in the house, the responsible one - had made everyone who lived in the house have everyone’s number saved onto their phones, just in case anything should happen. While Ian found that idea more than reasonable, he was honestly kind of confused as to why Mickey would be calling him - at all, and much less at two fucking am when they were not even five doors from each other.

 

Alas, after a little bit over a minute’s hesitation, a small sigh escaped Ian’s lips and he pressed accept, holding the phone up to his ear.

 

“Mick? What do you want?” He asked, some of the confusion inside of his head translating into his voice. Instead of getting words in response, though, all he got was a muffled moan on the other end of the line. He knew that moan; it sounded the exact same as the ones that had been pouring into his ears all of twenty four hours ago. It didn’t take very long to figure out what Mickey was getting at as the sounds continued - and it didn’t take very long for Ian’s cock to catch up either, stirring inside of his boxers.

 

A part of Ian wanted to curse Mickey out, ask him why he was treating him this way. Why he was acting so fucking hot and cold; maybe in a moment like this he would be able to get a better response. However, Ian was nothing more than human, and as Mickey’s moans became louder and louder, sex became more of a priority than sorting out their emotional issues.

 

“Are you teasing me, Mickey?” Ian asked into the receiver, voice low. Rumbling and powerful, both of them easily enough slipping into the roles they had been toying with last night. “You should know that I don’t take very kindly to that” The younger man continued, swallowing as he listened to every single little noise escaping Mickey’s mouth. He slipped a hand down in under the covers, sighing as he reached his aching cock, palming it safely, thirsting to relive last night.

 

 _“Come over here”_ Mickey’s voice was somehow fragile and clouded enough by his sounds of pleasure that Ian could just barely make out the uttered words. A part of him wanted to say no, push him the edge and deny Mickey’s request just so that he could have a taste of his own medicine. But the truth was that Ian could already feel some precome start to make its way out of his own cock, so he didn’t really have much wiggle room. They both needed this. _“Please”_

 

That was all; Ian immediately hung up and phone and let it fall back down onto his covers as he stood up, exiting his bedroom in nothing but his boxers, walking the few steps down to Mickey’s door, putting his hand onto the handle, preparing himself to swing it open. He paused for a second, though. There were small, tiny, muffled moans seeping out from under the door and it made his cock stir even a little bit more, his body aching to be inside of Mickey once again. He needed this so fucking bad; he wanted Mickey. In any and every way that he could possibly get him.

 

With somewhat of a deep breath, Ian opened the door and stepped inside of the room. Mickey was completely naked on the bed, laying on top of the covers. His head was tilted back, eyes shut; his legs were spread apart as he worked himself, his hand safely wrapped around his cock as he pleasured himself. He didn’t indicate in any way that all that he had noticed Ian coming in, but somehow Ian knew anyway.

 

So instead of announcing himself, or doing anything of the sort, Ian swallowed roughly. He grabbed a hold of the waistband of his black boxers, pushing them down his legs, a quiet sigh falling out of his mouth as the pressure was let off of his aching, throbbing cock. When he straightened back up, he noticed that Mickey had opened his eyes.

 

The blue, blackrimmed orbs were on his own as the shorter man made no effort to stop stroking himself, small and beautiful moans continuing to fall from his plump lips as he waited for Ian to make a move. Instead of slowly stepping over to the bed; instead of dragging this out an teasing him as he had done last night - Ian got himself over to the bed as fast as he possibly could, throwing himself on top of the other man.

 

A small grunt sounded in the base of Mickey’s throat as his hands were pinned to the mattress above his head, Ian’s tongue pushing into his mouth with more force than he had ever experienced in the past.

 

Ian knew in that very moment - despite how intense and sexual it was - that nothing would ever be able to beat this. Sure, he may have only known Mickey for a few weeks at most, and the main percentage of their interactions with each other had been nothing but pleasant so far - but damn it, he liked this man. In fact, if Ian was one to believe in love at first sight, maybe that had been an accurate term to use. The way their tongues just knew how to move together, the way their bodies somehow melted into one - all of it added up to them somehow - in some way that Ian didn’t quite know how to comprehend just yet - being meant to be.

 

“Beg” Ian’s voice was muffled by Mickey’s lips nibbling at his own; the taller man rolled his hips, building up some friction in between the two of them, grunts and moans welling up in both of their throats. Their precome blended together, being spread out over their lower torsos as they rocked into each other. “Look at me and beg” The younger man repeated as he was getting nothing but closed eyes and choked moans.

 

Mickey obeyed, shooting his eyes open to connect with Ian’s.

 

“Please” The word was like complete music to Ian’s ears as he moved his hips ever so slightly, their lips staying pressed against one another’s as he teasingly nudged the tip of his cock against Mickey’s still stretched rim.

 

“More” He spoke against his tongue. “Give me everything”

 

“Please. Please, I need you so bad” Mickey sighed softly, attempting to roll his body downwards to get Ian’s cock into him, but Ian moved backwards, denying it for now, silently stating his need to hear more. Finally, Mickey’s horniness won, and he gave into the game. “Please. Please, Ian. I’ll be good for you, I promise. I need your cock so fucking bad. You feel so good inside of me, I need it. You can do whatever you want, I just - please. Please fuck me. Right now”

 

The beautiful words made Ian’s entire body thrum in anticipation and happiness. That nasty boy in the kitchen, the one with the wall around him? Maybe Ian did like that guy in some way; but that guy wasn’t Mickey. Not the real one. This was. The man who craved affection and attention. The one who craved being dominated and the one who needed somebody to take care of him - needs verbally spoken or not.

 

So if Ian was looking for an answer, here it was. He liked Mickey - all of him, every single part. Even the ones that scared him a little bit.

 

With his tongue dominating Mickey’s mouth, Ian slammed into his lover once and for all, no mercy. The dark, wooden bed frame slammed against the wall, the sound just almost managing to drown out Mickey’s loud cry in pleasure. There was the slight stinging sensation of Ian’s cock stretching him out, of course, but the more intense feeling was the beauty and the pleasure.

 

Ian deepened the kiss as he pulled back out and then slammed back into the older man, feeling his muscles welcome him, enveloping his cock in the best way; in a way that he had never ever felt anybody do before. Their tongues continued sliding over each other, teeth tugging at lips, neither of them quite aware of what sounds were coming from who.

 

Ian’s hands were still pinning Mickey’s above their heads, his fingers tightly wrapped around his wrists, keeping him completely unable to move them as he fucked him absolutely senseless, the bed banging against the wall over and over and over again, harder with every single roll of Ian’s hips. The butterflies in the pit of his stomach were ever-present.

 

Mickey couldn’t do much other than just lay there, letting Ian ram into him, fucking him deep into the mattress as the makeout session continued, saliva being spread out over their chins, swollen lips starting to ache. Ian tightened his hold on Mickey’s wrists, doing his best to speed up even more, pistoling into Mickey’s body, his head spinning with the absolutely immense pleasure coursing throughout his veins. The way his brain was filled with one thing and one thing alone - Mickey.

 

The older man’s body spasmed underneath him, louder cries being poured out of his throat and into Ian’s mouth; with that, Ian realized that he had managed to find his prostate, and he continued stabbing at that one special spot inside of his lover, making them both stable closer and closer to the edge, their lips still slotted together, sweaty skin glued to each other’s.

 

Ian deepened the kiss further, wanting to take it all it. The way Mickey’s tongue felt pressed against his own; the way he would sometimes use his lips to nip at Ian’s. When the sun came up, Mickey would probably be back to his old, grumpy self, claiming that this meant nothing, so Ian might as well drink all of this in while it lasted.

 

The bed continued rocking against the wall, Ian slamming into Mickey as fast and as hard as he possibly could, both of them absolutely screaming into each other’s mouths - until finally, they got there.

 

Ian stopped his movements, staying balls deep inside of Mickey as they both emptied their loads simultaneously, the bottom having had some help with the way their chests had been rubbing together, his cock trapped in between. Mickey could feel himself being filled up by Ian’s white, sticky liquid, and he let his eyes fall closed, enjoying the warm feeling of the reward. His own load had been spilled in between them, gluing the shaded, tattoo covered chest together with the freckly, pale one.

 

Right when they were both finished, Ian collapsed on top of Mickey’s body, his face buried deep in his neck. He took a deep breath, breathing in the sweet, perfect scent of the man, no matter how pathetic it may be considering their shaky relationship - if you could even call it that. It felt good, though. Right. His fingers were still wrapped around his wrists, although limp, in no way holding him.

 

“Are you gonna kick me out?” Ian couldn’t help but ask, his tired voice slightly muffled by Mickey’s skin. A small hum reached his ears as the older man shook his hand off of his wrist. A heavy, comforting arm was wrapped around Ian’s exhausted body, a pair of lips buried in the red hair for a moment.

 

“Go to sleep” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that people are still liking this au? I'm sorry I haven't had the chance to update in quite a while. 
> 
> I wish all of you an amazing day! <3


	7. I'll Battle 'Til This Bitter Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This drawing - this portrait - wasn’t in color, it was created completely in pencil, yet Ian could easily see who Mickey had been studying. It was him. It was Ian. At some point since he had moved in, he had been sitting by that kitchen island, probably talking to Mandy or something, blissfully unaware of the fact that the angry - beautiful - man in the corner chair was studying his every move. Beautifully translating him onto paper.

Ian’s eyebrows curled together as the sleep ever so slowly started to drain free of his body after the few hours of deep unconsciousness. The more he seeped back into reality, the more he noticed he pain present in his bones; the good kind of pain. The kind of pain that indicated that you had had quite a bit of fun the night before. He could feel the mattress underneath his stomach, all four of his limbs carelessly spread around himself as memories of last night flashed before his eyes.

 

Mickey’s mouth on his, the beautiful, pleading words whispered against his tongue. The way his body had moved underneath and against his own. The touches, the kisses, the amazing sounds filling the room. The bed banging against the wall. Every single, tiny little detail made Ian’s entire body begin to throb again; the truth was that he had never once experienced something like this in his life. Not just the amazing sex, but he rest of it.

 

He was well aware of the fact that Mickey was a tricky soul to get to know - and that he wasn’t exactly the sweetest guy in the world, at least not to begin with - but he couldn’t help but think that he really, really wanted to learn him. Ian wanted to understand every part of Mickey - the kind parts, the sweet parts, the loving parts. Even the nasty parts. He wanted everything. That wasn’t to say that he knew why he felt like this, but he had since long chosen to just go with it. He couldn’t change it.

 

A low, somewhat cracky groan sounded in the base Ian’s his throat as he stretched out, one or two of his joints popping in the process. His hands curled into fists and then back out as his body relaxed, his eyes slowly blinking open to take in the morning-lit room. His cheek was resting against the mattress a few inches beneath the pillows, and his head was turned away from the small window, yet he could tell that the drapes were slid open, letting the sun shine in through the glass.

 

Ian was alone in the room by now, he realized. Of course he was. Somehow, no matter how much he fought and fought to break through that thick brick wall of Mickey’s, he never seemed to be successful for any duration of time longer than it took to fuck him.

 

Although - and he might be a complete girl for this, but his point stood - he couldn’t help but feel a little bit of butterflies in his stomach when he thought about what had happened last night. Not the fuck, but afterwards.

 

When he had asked whether Mickey was going to kick him out or not, Mickey hadn’t. Instead he had just laid an arm around him and told him to go to sleep. And from what Ian remembered, the tattooed man hadn’t exactly objected when he had pressed himself even a little bit closer to him. Considering the fact that Ian by now had come to terms with the fact that he had a large - massive, in fact - crush on this man, maybe it was natural for his stomach to start stirring at that.

 

Ian’s eyebrows stayed knitted together as he sighed deeply, placing his flat palms against the mattress and easing himself up, flipping over so that he was sitting in the middle of the bed, looking over the room. This was truly the first time that he had ever actually been inside of Mickey’s room, and he couldn’t help but snoop a little bit - well, from a distance, of course. In his experience, you could learn a fuck ton about a person just from their room.

 

The walls were painted with a light wash of grey, much like a lot of the other bedrooms in the house. It was likely that Mickey just hadn’t had the time or bother to repaint it - Ian completely understood that. Said walls were also cluttered with different drawings and posters. There was a large rolling stones poster smacked up on the wall which Ian was facing towards. Around it, there were a couple of other papers - drawings that looked as if Mickey had drawn them himself.

 

There was one, slightly larger than an A4, portraying a girl. She was sitting by what looked like a table, hand curled around a yellow pencil. Her hair was flipped, pouring over her shoulder in such a way that Ian couldn’t see much of her face, but the striking blue color of the waves revealed who the girl was supposed to be. Ian couldn’t help but let his mouth pull up into somewhat of a smile; it was fucking beautiful.

 

Without really thinking all too much of it, Ian’s feet hit the floor and he walked the two or three steps closer to the wall, eyes continuing to wander over the papers. Some were really good, quite photorealistic drawings that you could tell he had spent quite a bit of time on, and some were just random doodles - which were still better than anything Ian would ever be able to create.

 

Ian was entranced by every single little sliver of paper, but soon enough, his eyes stuck to one particular drawing. It was of a man’s face, draw in profile. The jawline was chiseled, mouth pulled up into a large smile. His hair was brushed back on top of his head, although one small strand had fallen down over his forehead.

 

This drawing - this portrait - wasn’t in color, it was created completely in pencil, yet Ian could easily see who Mickey had been studying. It was him. It was Ian. At some point since he had moved in, he had been sitting by that kitchen island, probably talking to Mandy or something, blissfully unaware of the fact that the angry - beautiful - man in the corner chair was studying his every move. Beautifully translating him onto paper.

 

“Holy fuck” Ian couldn’t help but breathe to himself. Maybe a tiny part of him had been worried that Mickey didn’t like him, that he let him fuck him simply because it was easy, and because he was there. Now he knew, though. Mickey may have a thick brick wall around himself, but behind that wall, there was a part of him that… felt for Ian. There was literally no other explanation.

 

Ian swallowed, turning away from the wall in favor of reaching for his boxers, tugging them up onto his body. Soon, he was facing the drawing again, only contemplating for maybe two seconds before he carefully pulled the thumbtack out of the wall, taking the paper down. He pressed the little nail back into the same hole again, looking down at the drawing. The truth was that he had never quite seen anything like this.

 

Not only had Mickey been able to collect the pencil-lines in such a way that it resembled Ian, but somehow he had managed to create some kind of life in the picture. It was as if Ian could almost see his lips being pulled up into that smile, he could just imagine what it had looked like when that one piece of hair had given up and fallen down over his forehead.

 

Ian couldn’t help but think that an artist could only draw something this amazing when they were truly inspired.

 

With that thought in mind, Ian headed out of the room, paper in hand. After a quick detour into his own room so that he could get a hold of a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, he walked down the hallway and towards the kitchen. He made sure to let his hand hand by his side, drawing tucked somewhat behind his back, yet not in a super obvious way.

 

“Oh. Morning, Ian” Mandy said when she spotted her best friend. The girl rushed back and forth between the kitchen and the livingroom, seemingly incredibly stressed as she got her things together, the long blue hair shaking with her every movement. “I gotta go, see you both tonight!”

 

Ian gave her a salute right as she disappeared out of his eyesight, heading towards the front door. As he heard it slam, he did his best to force his heart to slow down a little bit. The truth was that it wasn’t beating quite as strongly as it normally did when he was around Mickey. But that wasn’t a bad thing, quite the other way around. It was almost as if in between last night and finding that drawing today, he had realized that Mickey wasn’t some kind of flesh-eating zombie. He wasn’t a serial killer.

 

He was a guy.

 

Granted, a lot of the time he was an incredibly nasty guy, but Ian also had a feeling that he had a fuck of a lot more layers to him than just that. Layers Ian was absolutely determined to understand.

 

Mickey was sitting by the kitchen island once again, just as he did a lot of mornings. Ignoring Ian - of course. Instead of sitting on the longer side of the counter to face the kitchen, though, today he was sitting on the end of it, giving Ian a pretty nice view of his profile as he typed something on his computer. His black hair was still messy from last night, a black wifebeater covering his upper body. Ian could see the shapes of the ink curling around his muscles, and it almost made his mouth water - which he was pretty sure wasn’t actually supposed to be a thing.

 

More memories of last night somehow started flashing before his eyes; the way Mickey had been spread out underneath him, literally begging over and over to have his cock inside of him. This man may be incredibly difficult to get to know, incredibly difficult to understand. But the more Ian looked at him, the more puzzle pieces he started to collect and put together - the more he fell. Hard.

 

Ian took a deep breath, willing his guts to stop churning as he summoned up every single little bit of strength in his body. He took the five or eight steps over to the tattooed man and he placed the drawing down, right beside the laptop he seemed to interested in. It took a second - or maybe even two - before Mickey reacted, but finally;

 

“Fuck” Mickey cursed, eyes fixed onto the portrait as he brought his left hand up to his face, rubbing some of the sleep - or maybe embarrassment - out of his features. Ian’s eyebrows drew together a little bit, his eyes focused on Mickey’s neck. He thought that maybe he could see the small pockets of pale skin turn a bit of a deeper red shade.

 

Ian wasn’t showing this drawing to Mickey to embarrass him. He wasn’t showing it to make fun of him. The only reason he had brought it out here was to try to get an honest answer out of Mickey. One second he was a complete asshole, and the next he was spread out underneath him, begging for his cock. All Ian wanted was to understand Mickey. Or at least have another piece to the puzzle that was him.

 

“Man, that wasn’t um…” Mickey mumbled, pushing his laptop aside in favor of standing up. His fingers were lazily resting on the edge of the paper as the men now stood facing each other. Ian’s eyebrows were still very much drawn together as he did his best to figure out exactly what Mickey was playing at. “I didn’t mean to draw that, it just fucking happened” He finally sighed, sound fully aware of how lame the words were. A drawing that amazing doesn’t ‘just happen’ no matter how good of an artist you are. It takes time, inspiration, even Ian knew that.

 

Mickey’s eyes were still focused on the carefully drawn pencil lines, almost as if he was deliberately avoiding Ian’s gaze, his cheeks slightly flushed - which was something Ian had never in a million years expected to see. He supposed that he could stand here, waiting. Waiting for Mickey to come up with a valid excuse. He could stand here and enjoy the way in which Mickey was squirming, the way in which he finally had the upper hand in the game.

 

Ultimately, though - Ian was fucking tired of the game.

 

“Are you going to keep playing, or are you going to let me kiss you good morning?” At the unexpected words, Mickey dropped the paper completely, eyes finally connecting with green. Ian had his answer with the way the shorter man’s tongue darted out to wet his own lips, making the ball of his lip-piercing shine a little bit more with saliva. He placed his hand onto the side of Ian’s waist, tilting his head slightly upwards.

 

The butterflies in the pit of Ian’s stomach grew all the stronger as he wrapped a secure arm around Mickey’s waist, capturing his lips in a perfect morning kiss. Their mouths slotted together, almost as if they had been doing this for years, a silent agreement made in between them that the game wasn’t worth all that much anymore.

 

  
A deep sigh escaped Ian’s lips as he zipped his jeans up, letting the golden shorts drop back into his old gymbag. The truth was that as much as he didn’t exactly despise his job - that was just what it was at this point. His job. He had to do it to make money, but it wasn’t fun. Not like it used to be. He reached his right hand up, running his fingers through the sweat-damp strands of red hair. He found his white V-neck, tugging it down over his upper body. He felt slightly disgusting when he got dressed like this without showering first, but he also had to admit that he wouldn’t feel much cleaner, were he to stand inside of that surely come-drenched shower. He’d much rather it be his own bodily fluids making him feel dirty.

 

Ian’s tongue darted out to wet his chapped bottom lip as he lifted his bag, swinging it over his shoulder as he started to walk towards the back-exit of the club.

 

“Hey” He knitted his eyebrows together at the sound of Jeremy’s voice, turning around to face his co-worker. “There’s some guy out there asking for the hot redhead” The man spoke, peeling his t shirt off as he started to get ready to go out on stage for his shift. Another deep, annoyed sigh fell out of Ian’s mouth. This happened all too often - to all of the dancers.

 

“I’m off the clock” Ian shook his head and turned back around, deciding to ignore the information for tonight. The truth was that he just really wanted to go home and relax, have a shower. Maybe he would be able to convince Mickey to join him.

 

“Alright, if you’re sure. But he’s kind of cute” Jeremy said. “I mean… if you like short and scary, I guess” Of course his co-worker’s description of the customer caught Ian’s attention, and he turned around to face him once again, letting his heavy bag drop to the cement floor. He couldn’t help but feel his stomach start to flutter a little bit at the thought of Mickey heading here only to see him.

 

The truth was that he had been kind of scared that the kiss this morning had been another one time thing. That as soon as he laid eyes on the shorter man again, he would be back to his old, grumpy self. This was a fair assumption, of course, taking their history into account. But Ian had also felt as if something had shifted in between them. That maybe Mickey felt comfortable letting a little bit more of that wall crumble around him.

 

“Did he have tattoos?” Ian found himself asking, just to be sure.

 

“Lots of them” Jeremy confirmed. “What? Is he your boyfriend or something?”

 

“Or something” Ian sighed, heading towards the door that would bring him back into the actual club area. “See you tomorrow night?”

 

“See you” Jeremy saluted right as the heavy door closed behind Ian.

 

  
It took Ian a minute or so, but finally he located Mickey, just as he had anticipated. The shorter man was sitting by the bar, staring down into a glass of bourbon, hand lazily wrapped around the glass. His hair was a little bit slicked back with some gel, his signature black wifebeater stretched out over his body. The flashing lights made his tattoos look even more beautiful than they usually were - however that was possible. Mickey had come here, with seemingly no other intention other than to see Ian, and Ian had to admit that as surprised as he was, he couldn’t help the way he traveled a little bit closer to falling in love with the man.

 

Ian was obviously completely dressed by now, the strap of his gymbag once again hung over his shoulder, but he still walked up to the man as if he was in his uniform, making sure to carry himself in that confident way that they were all required to.

 

“Heard you were looking for me” Ian spoke standing behind Mickey, his chin resting a few inches above his shoulder, making sure that his voice poured straight into his ear and above the music. Mickey’s body seemed to tense up for about a tenth of a second, and he turned his body slightly to the side right as Ian leaned his waist against the bar, their eyes connecting.

 

Ian’s lips carried a large grin - he wouldn’t have been able to help that, had he liked to. First of all, the lights the music - the club - just made him want to smile somehow. It gave him energy. Second, Mickey had fucking driven all the way here, walked into the club and asked for Ian. How the fuck was Ian supposed to keep from smiling at that fact? It made him feel all fuzzy inside.

 

“You did, huh?” Mickey asked after a beat, eyebrows raised and - to Ian’s surprise - somewhat of a grin grew onto his lips as well. “Figured I’d stop by, make sure that you weren't heading home with some random, geriatric viagroid or some shit”

 

Somehow, Ian could detect something other than joke in Mickey’s words, the tone of his voice. And maybe it was the dehydration spreading throughout his body, or maybe it was just that Mickey was - for once - smiling. But Ian built up the courage and asked;

 

“Mick, are you jealous? Wanna make sure I don’t go home with anyone other than you?” The grin was still very much stuck onto Ian’s mouth as he joked around, enjoying watching the way in which Mickey’s cheeks seemed to flush a little bit again - twice in one day, that had to be some kind of record. Also, Mickey’s silence was more than enough proof that Ian was dead on.

 

Most likely, Mickey had been sitting at home, knowing that Ian worked at some kind of a strip-club, unable to shake the thought of him heading home and fucking somebody else. The thought that Mickey had felt jealous enough to actually head here and make sure that that didn’t happen made the butterflies in the pit of Ian’s stomach all the stronger.

 

“Don’t worry” Ian spoke. His face was lowered closer to Mickey’s ear by now, and he knew that the older man was listening to every single syllable. “There’s only one guy I’m planning on fucking tonight” As the words left his lips, he wrapped his right hand around Mickey’s waist, pressing himself every so slightly closer to his frame. Mickey swallowed, gaze back on his drink, the small smile still stuck on his face, as if he was completely unable to shake it off. Or maybe he just didn’t see a reason to.

 

“Yeah?” Mickey asked, turning his head to the right, their eyes connecting; faces merely inches apart. Ian couldn’t quite decide whether he wanted to study those deep, beautiful, blackrimmed eyes or the thick, perfect lips, so his gaze flickered in-between. “Who’s that?”

 

Ian grinned, surging in to capture Mickey’s lips in a deep kiss. Before their mouths could actually touch, though, Mickey pulled back, making Ian’s head start to throb in confusion, his arm loosening slightly around his body.

 

“Just…” Mickey whispered, breath fanning Ian’s lips. He looked as if he was immediately regretting the act. “We’re fucking in public, Gallagher. I don’t…”

 

Ian’s tongue darted out to wet his own lips as he pulled his head back a little bit, eyes traveling around the crowded club, his hand staying placed onto Mickey’s waist. Mickey let his eyes drift over the crowd as well, noticing all of the kissing and groping already going on. Literally not one person was paying Ian nor Mickey any kind of attention what so ever. No matter how uncomfortable Mickey was with kissing in public - or even kissing, really - he really fucking wanted to have Ian’s lips on his own right now.

 

Soon, their eyes fell back onto each other’s, and Mickey gave in. He placed his hand on the back of Ian’s neck, pulling him in for a deep, searing kiss, silently assuring him that he didn’t have the energy to push him away anymore. At least not tonight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anybody asks - yes, of course you will find out more about Mickey and why he has been acting the way that he has. There's still a few chapters left, quite a lot of things will be revealed and revisited!
> 
> I hope that you all have an amazing day! <3


	8. Even the Wrong Words Seem to Rhyme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian kept waiting for the snap. The moment when the kindness would disappear out of Mickey’s eyes and he would yell at him to get out. He waited and he waited, but nothing came.

As soon as they stumble through the door to Mickey’s bedroom, Ian kicked it closed and then placed his hands on either side of the shorter man’s neck, tugging him up to meet him in a kiss. He had no idea for how long Mickey would keep his guard down - how much time it would be before he would be back to throwing insults and acting like some kind of a child. It completely sucked that it would most likely happen at some point, but for tonight said wall was down and there was no way in hell that Ian wasn’t taken advantage of that fact.

 

Thankfully, Mickey immediately responded to the kiss, leaning into Ian’s touch. A low hum erupted in the base of Ian’s throat when he felt Mickey’s tongue slide easily into his mouth, his hands being placed onto his collarbones, curling into fists and bringing Ian’s shirt with them in a seeming effort to tug him even a little bit closer to him.

 

Despite the horrible things that Mickey had said to Ian in the past - despite his non-stop efforts to push him away or to make him hate him; nothing would ever be able to erase this. The perfect way that his stomach started stirring whenever they kissed, the way in which their lips seemed to fit perfectly in between each other like two puzzle pieces or some shit. The way that Mickey knew exactly how and where to touch him to drive him insane, even if it was just something as utterly simple as tugging at his shirt.

 

They continued standing in the middle of them room, completely devouring each other’s mouths, Ian’s thumbs resting safely on Mickey’s jawline, his hold on his face tender despite how wild the kiss was becoming. Mickey’s heels were a bit off the floor since Ian was quite a bit taller than him, his left hand now on the back of his neck, curling into the red hair as his right one stayed on his shirt, tugging at the fabric reverently, wishing that he could somehow have Ian’s tongue even deeper in his mouth, have his entire being even closer to himself.

 

Soon though, Ian chose to pull away, breaking the kiss; their lips aching and throbbing, slightly swollen. Both pairs of eyes slowly slid open, their hands and arms still tightly ho,ding one another. As much as Ian would want to lay Mickey down onto the bed and just have sex with him - as supposed to a wild and completely untamed fucking session - he knew that he wasn’t there just quite yet. And that had to be okay. Which was why they could both practically feel the snap in the air when Ian changed his persona to what he knew that Mickey currently needed it to be.

 

“Drop your clothes. Now” He would like to think that the small smirk that he saw come across Mickey’s lips could be interpreted as a ‘thank you’. Mickey wasn’t ready to label anything or figure things out just yet - and Ian was actually alright with that for now. It was completely fine.

 

Mickey dropped his hands from Ian’s body, taking about one and a half steps back before he brought his arms behind his back, peeling his shirt off of his body and dropping it to the side - his eyes never leaving Ian’s. Ian’s tongue darted out to wet his own lips at the sight; thanks to the darkness outside of the large window, there wasn’t a ton of light in the room. That fact made shadows dance perfectly over Mickey’s ink littered chest, curling around and highlighting his abs.

 

To Ian, Mickey was nothing if not completely and utterly beautiful.

 

Mickey then moved on to his jeans, unzipping them and pulling them down along with his boxers. Before long, he was standing completely naked in front of Ian; waiting. Ian licked his lips once more, his eyes traveling over the perfect body in front of him, wanting nothing more than to just have him already - but they weren’t quite finished playing just yet.

 

Ian’s tongue darted out once again, wetting his bottom lip as he brought his eyes back up to the blackrimmed blue ones. A small smirk appeared on Ian’s own lips as he peeled his shirt off of his body, still holding it in his hand as he got rid of his jeans and boxers as well, kicking them to the side. Neither of them spoke a single word for quite a few minutes, making the air tense - although, tense in the best sense of the word. Neither of the were uncomfortable and nothing felt awkward, they were just… well, playing.

 

As Ian took the few steps over to Mickey, he brought his own shirt in front of his body, holding it in both of his hands and twisting it a little bit, making it more compact. His eyes never left the blue ones, and he wasn’t sure that he would ever have the power to look away again. Mickey was too beautiful for that, too… perfect. Alas;

 

“You’ll do as I say, correct?” Ian asked the older man, just barely recognizing his own voice with how deep it was by now; laced with pleasure. Mickey swallowed visibly, his head moving slowly up and down in agreement.

 

“Yes. I promise” Ian hummed in satisfaction as he brought his rolled up shirt up towards Mickey’s eyes, placing it over and blocking his sight before tying it at the back, the fabric acting as a blindfold. Once it was in place, he once again took a tiny step back - not to the point where he couldn’t touch Mickey, but just so that he had a little bit of a better view of the punk. He saw the pink tongue dart out to wet his lips once again, and it took just about every single ounce of will power left inside of him to keep from surging down and sucking it into his own mouth, just to taste him again.

 

“Hands behind your back” Ian whispered then, the last letter popping slightly in his mouth. Mickey just about immediately obeyed, moving his arms from hanging at his sides to resting at his lower back. Ian gnawed on the inside of his bottom lip as he reached down to the floor, retrieving Mickey’s shirt before stepping around his body. His gaze immediately fell to his ass, mouth practically watering with how perfect it looked; soft and round cheeks, the ink patterns curling over the previously pale flesh.

 

Ian twisted Mickey’s shirt up as well, sliding it in between his arms and securely tying the fabric around his wrists, making sure that it didn’t hurt him but that he also wouldn’t be able to go anywhere. When he was happy with his work, he stepped back around, his eyes once again landing on Mickey’s face. His lips were slightly parted, small breaths of anticipation escaping. Ian’s gaze then slipped down his body; Mickey’s cock was standing up for attention, completely rock solid. A thin but steady stream of precome sliding down from the pink head.

 

Ian hadn’t planned on giving Mickey a blowjob at all tonight, but before he knew it he was down on his knees, taking him into his mouth. The cock was just way too fucking perfect, the weight of it inside of his mouth along with the salty taste coating his tongue completely making his head spin.

 

“Fuck” Mickey’s breathy curse was just barely audible, but Ian caught it as he blinked up at the blindfolded man, bobbing his head up and down his cock once or twice before pulling off and standing back up. Mickey’s adams apple bopped up and down, his tongue darting out to wet his own lips in anticipation. Ian mimicked the action, completely unable to keep himself from admiring this man. He could be rude and blunt, and he was overall rough around the edges, of course he was. But there was also not a single doubt in Ian’s mind that he was falling in love with him.

 

“My good boy” He whispered, curling a warm hand around Mickey’s hipbone. Mickey’s lips stayed parted at the praise, and Ian finally gave into his urge, darting in to capture them in between his own, his entire body throbbing at how fucking right it felt once again. Ian had been with a lot of guys in the past - kissed a lot of guys - but not one single experience would ever be able to measure up to this. The way that Mickey’s tongue slid surely over his own, the way the sweet taste made his stomach tingle. Since Mickey was both tied up and blindfolded, he could really do much, but he kissed Ian with everything that he had inside of him. As if he was craving every single inch of his entire being.

 

Ian continued exploring Mickey’s mouth, eyes shut as he brought his left hand to his cock, giving it a few good and firm strokes, his thumb swiping over the tip to collect the small amount of precome that that trickled out of the head since he had sucked him off.

 

Mickey was all but completely helpless with the way their shirts were holding him steady; however, his kissing was anything but innocent - in fact, he just about took control over it, forcefully sliding his tongue into Ian’s mouth, nipping at his lips. He wanted everything. Ian’s fist continued stroking him, riling him up even further before his touch disappeared.

 

Ian backed up a little bit, his gaze dancing over Mickey’s body for a second before he opened his mouth;

 

“Down on your knees” His voice wasn’t much of a whisper anymore, instead it was quite loud and dark as he ordered Mickey to obey. Mickey’s adams apple moved up and down a few more times, his tongue wetting his bottom lip as he did so, sinking down onto his knees. Ian stayed still, watching Mickey move and feeling his throat grow a little bit tighter. Somehow he looked so vulnerable like this - tied up an blindfolded and willing. Yet the tattoos and everything was such a contrast to all of that, and it made Ian’s cock rise even a little bit further. He wanted Mickey so fucking bad. Now and for as long as he could possibly get him. “Open your mouth”

 

Mickey dropped his chin, tilting his head slightly upwards and giving Ian a good view. Mickey Milkovich, down on his knees and ready to suck his cock, he wasn’t so sure that there was anything in the entire world that could be described as sexier. A small flap of the fabric of Ian’s shirt fell down a little bit too far, and the taller man reached down, his fingers dancing over his cheek as he tucked it back underneath the rest of the blindfold. Mickey’s mouth closed at the touch, swallowing thickly before he parted his lips again.

 

“Suck it” Ian demanded, placing the tip of his cock right against Mickey’s lips, urging him to start blowing him. “Show me how good you are” At the words, Mickey immediately wrapped his mouth tightly around Ian’s length, welcoming him into the heat. “Fuck” Ian sighed roughly as Mickey promptly started sucking him with everything that he had, bobbing his head up and down his cock, his cheeks ever so slightly hollowed. His arms stayed tightly bound behind his back, his shoulders starting to ache ever so slightly in the best way.

 

Ian’s head was dipped down, arms hanging loosely at his sides his gaze stuck on the beautiful man on his knees in front of him. His entire body was completely throbbing in high gear, pleasure shooting throughout his veins when Mickey used his tongue on the slit, the very dip dancing around the dent before he went back in, deep throating on almost every third bob of his head, more enthusiasm that Ian had ever thought would be quite possible.

 

“Fuck” He couldn’t help but sigh once again, his right hand landing on the back of Mickey’s neck, urging him on. He looked so helpless in a way, he couldn’t see anything, he couldn’t grab anything. Yet, he somehow trusted Ian to do this to him.

 

Ian’s hand curled into a fist, bringing the black hair with it, reveling in how soft the strands felt slipped in-between his fingers. Mickey continued slurping away at his cock, cheeks now completely hollowed as he sucked with all of his might, the head of Ian’s cock hitting the back of his throat over and over again.

 

Ian tightened his hold a little bit further, starting to rock his hips in time to Mickey’s movements, rolling into his the tight, perfect heat. For half a dozen times or so, Mickey continued sucking, moving his head back and forth as Ian rocked into his mouth. Then however, he tightened his hold on the black hair, slowing Mickey’s movements.

 

“Stay still” He demanded darkly. “Let me fuck that pretty mouth” Mickey obeyed immediately, his body relaxing ever so slightly as he silently gave Ian the permission that he needed to move forwards. He tightened his hold on the black hair even a little bit further, thrusting into his mouth, eyes stuck on Mickey. He looked so fucking perfect, helpless but willing. It took Ian a few seconds to pick up some pace, but pretty soon he was full on fucking Mickey’s mouth, forcing his cock down his throat over and over again, slamming the tip against the back of his throat, nothing but thrill and pleasure crossing throughout his veins.

 

Mickey stayed perfectly still, deep breaths escaping out through his nose.

 

By now, both of Ian’s hands were on the back of Mickey’s head, forcing him down onto his cock over and over again, pleasuring himself, a thin layer of sweat starting to appear on his skin. Right when he was starting to feel his balls tighten, though, he slowed down. His hands loosened on Mickey’s head as he slowly let his cock drop out from in-between the swollen lips.

 

“Come up here” Ian immediately spoke, voice rough yet a lot gentler than it had been a few minutes ago. Making sure that Mickey had been alright through all of that was more important that some game. He placed his hands on the upper part of Mickey’s waist, helping him to stand up. “Are you alright?” Ian asked, reaching up to wipe a tear off of Mickey’s cheek - it was most likely just a reflex, and not actually a reaction to him being sad or in too much pain.

 

“Fine” Mickey’s head moved slowly up and down in assurance, his voice thick. “Kiss me?” A part of Ian wanted to get back into the game, curse at Mickey that he was the one who decided - Ian was the one who demanded or asked and Mickey was the one that obeyed. At this particular moment, though, that was proving to be completely impossible. Mickey’s lips were pink and swollen, shining with precome and saliva and resting a little ways apart. Mickey’s otherwise hard shell was completely broken by now, and here he was, standing in front of Ian all but completely helpless, asking him to kiss him.

 

Ian was extremely thankful that he was blindfolded right now, because otherwise he would have surely changed his mind when he had spotted the large grin that stretched its way across Ian’s lips right before he went in. He placed a warm hand on the side of his waist, tugging him even a little bit closer as he kissed him, their lips slipping easily in between one another’s, their tongues sliding expertly across each other’s. The stirring in the base of Ian’s stomach became a little bit more powerful, the taste of Mickey completely intoxicating.

 

When Ian broke the act, a string of saliva kept them together for a second or two, his hand sliding down Mickey’s body to cup his ass, dragging a just barely audible moan out of the shorter man.

 

“Get on the bed” Ian spoke then, voice ever so slightly back to the darker one, slipping back into his part as a master as he kept a flat hand on the small of Mickey’s back, leading him towards the mattress. Since Mickey’s hands were still very much bound behind his back, he couldn’t do much more than to climb up onto the bed, his upper body falling flat onto the soft surface underneath him.

 

Ian took a few steps backwards for a second, admiring him. Mickey kept himself up on his knees, giving Ian the most perfect view of his ass up in the air, all but silently begging him to fuck him. His throat swelled up a little bit, his cock releasing another small dribble of precome, rolling down the shaft as he took a few steps closer to the bed, reaching down to retrieve the small tube of lube from his jeans on the floor as he went, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

 

Mickey’s cheek was pressed down into the pillow as he waited.

 

Ian popped the top open, squeezing some of the lube out onto his fingertips and wrapping a hand around himself, making sure that he was slicked up enough; thankfully, Mickey’s hole was still quite stretched from last night, so he didn’t see the point in spending a bunch of time on prep. Sure, at some point he would love to just take his time, watch Mickey squirm and hear him beg. But Ian also knew that for that to happen, he had to let him in a little bit further.

 

Ian lazily used the covers on Mickey’s bed to get rid of the small amount of extra lube that was left on his hand before he placed it onto his hip, climbing up onto the bed right behind him. It wasn’t possible that there was a single view in the entire world that was more perfect than this one. Mickey had his ass straight up in the air, thirsting to have Ian’s cock inside of him, wanting every single part of him.

 

“You look so fucking good for me” Ian mumbled, both of his hands curled around Mickey’s hips, rubbing the head of his cock against the rim, teasing them both. A small, muffled groan escaped Mickey’s lips, his entire body throbbing to have Ian’s cock inside of him. In this moment, there was nothing that he wanted more in the entire world.

 

Finally, Ian tightened his hold a little bit, pressing inside and bottoming out within one single stroke.

 

“Fuck” His eyes fell closed, reveling in the way that Mickey’s ass clenched and unclenched around his cock, trying to get them both uses to being connected in this particular way once again. When Ian opened his eyes once again, the parts of uninked skin was Mickey’s back were completely flushed, and Ian could just imagine how his eyes were clenched shut in pleasure behind that piece of fabric. “Fuck, you look hot” Ian couldn’t help but mumble right as he tightened his grip on his hips, pulling out until just the very tip of his cock was inside of Mickey - then he slammed right back inside, the bed banging ever so slightly against the wall in the process.

 

Ian repeated the action once more, and then again as he built up a strong and steady rhythm, rolling his hips, fucking Mickey just the way that he needed him to, shoving him onto his cock. A part of Ian wanted to clench his eyes shut again and just enjoy it, but a bigger part of him wanted to watch Mickey. He was so fucking beautiful; his hands clenching into fists behind his back, the small moans falling out of his lips, the way in which he was completely surrendering to his roommate.

 

“Harder” Mickey’s grunt caught Ian’s attention. “Please” At that last word, he obeyed the plea, tightening his hold around Mickey’s right hip and sliding his left one to his shoulder to gain some more leverage as he started absolutely pounding him into the mattress with zero mercy, the bed banging against the wall over and over again, all but echoing throughout the entire house. It was most likely waking up almost every single one of their roommates by now, but sounds of somebody fucking wasn’t exactly an uncommon thing in this house, nobody cared anymore. There was no use.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Mickey started chanting, unable to do anything but relax and just take the brutal way in which Ian was fucking the absolute shit out of him. The room was a complete haze of sex, Mickey’s cries and the ‘thud thud thud’ of their skin colliding whenever Ian slammed into him.

 

Ian continued to be amazed at what a champ Mickey was when it came to taking a cock up his ass, he had never met another guy who was as good at it, or who loved it as much as he seemed to. He tightened his hold on Mickey’s body even a little bit further, doing anything and everything that he possibly could to make sure that he would be completely blissed out when this was over. His fingertips dug deep into Mickey’s shaded flesh.

 

“Fuck, I - “ Mickey didn’t get further than that before they were both coming simultaneously, Ian stopping his movements and staying as deep inside of Mickey as he could possibly come. Screams, cries and curse words filled the room, Mickey’s muffled while Ian had his head tilted upwards, eyes clenched shut as he spilled them.

 

When they were finished, Mickey collapsed onto the bed, and Ian on top of him, not having the energy to immediately pull out. Their skin glued together thanks to the thin layers of sweat covering them; Ian’s breath fanned the back of Mickey’s neck as he breathed, feeling his entire body already start to ache in that perfect way that only one thing in the entire world could make it.

 

Ian slowly let his eyes slide open again, and he couldn’t help but bring his right hand up to Mickey’s head, running his fingers through the strands of damp, black hair; mesmerized at how beautiful it was. Every single part of this man was beautiful. A small groan sounded in the base of Mickey’s throat, and Ian was reminded of the fact that he was still tied up and blindfolded.

 

“Sorry” Ian mumbled tiredly, pulling out of his lover with a wince before reaching down and sliding Mickey’s shirt off from around his wrists, carefully wiping up some of his own come from in between his thighs before throwing it to the side.

 

When he went to undo the blindfold, he couldn’t help but feel as if he was releasing some kind of a tiger; sure, Mickey had been completely fine for the entire day, but now after he had come? There was a possibility that he would be back to his old, snarky and straight up nasty self. Ian gently undid the knot at the back of Mickey’s head, throwing the fabric over his shoulder. When he looked into the blue eyes, he had expected to find something dark, mean, or at least some kind of indifference.

 

That wasn’t it.

 

Instead the blue color was filled with admiration, kindness. The black liner was slightly smeared around, covering a little bit more of his eyelids, he looked… so much more beautiful than he ever had in the past - not that Ian was quite all too sure how that was possible. He carefully laid back down again, mimicking Mickey’s position with his cheek against the pillow, their eye contact never breaking.

 

Ian kept waiting for the snap. The moment when the kindness would disappear out of Mickey’s eyes and he would yell at him to get out. He waited and he waited, but nothing came. So he pushed his luck, lifting his right hand back up to Mickey’s temple, brushing a few of the black strands back behind his ear, lump growing in his throat. It was completely terrifying how much he felt for this man with little to no reason to.

 

Mickey didn’t snap at the touch, he didn’t still. Instead a beat passed, and then two. Then he blinked and threw an arm over Ian’s chest, using it to tug himself closer to him, resting the side of his face against his collarbone, breathing in his compelling scent.

 

To say that Ian was surprised at the forwards action was nothing if not an understatement; this aside, though, he wound both of his arms tightly around the older man’s body, dropping a soft kiss to the top of his head, feeling him burrow his face even a little bit deeper into his neck. Ian really did not want to ruin the moment, but he knew that if they fell asleep like this tonight, and Mickey would be back to his old self when they woke up, he would be more than crushed. He had to ask.

 

“In the morning; Mick, are you gonna be back to throwing insults at my face or can I relax?” Ian closed his eyes for a second, waiting for the shorter man to curse or flip out. Instead he felt a kiss being pressed to his neck before Mickey lifted his head, looking down into the green eyes, their bodies staying tightly intertwined.

 

“You can relax” He spoke after a beat, his lips slightly parted as he swallowed visibly. Ian took one of his hands off of his waist, lifting it up and placing it onto the back of his neck instead, holding his face tenderly. “I don’t um…” Mickey continued then, their eye contact slipping apart as he let his eyes wander over the other features on Ian’s face. “I don’t really know why I say that shit, I don’t mean any of it. It’s just…” He trailed off, so Ian filled in.

 

“Difficult to let people in…?” Mickey swallowed roughly once again, his gaze once again connecting with Ian’s as his head moved slowly up and down, amazed at how everything just somehow seemed to click inside of his head.

 

“So I um… “

 

“Make them hate you to begin with and then you’re covered” Ian once again finished his roommate’s sentence, dragging a low hum in agreement out of him. Suddenly, everything made sense to Ian. Mickey wasn’t an asshole because he was an asshole. He was an asshole to make sure that he had something to hide behind. If nobody liked him then he wouldn’t have to worry about pleasing anybody. Mickey was just one of those people that had been hurt in the past. Most likely a lot. “Too bad it’s not working here, huh? I don’t hate you” Ian promised, a small smile covering his lips, his thumb moving in smooth, comforting circles over Mickey’s jawline.

 

Mickey moved his hands up to Ian’s head, his fingertips slipping into the red hair as he covered his mouth with his own, both of them craving to have that taste, that feeling once more. Ian slid his tongue expertly across Mickey’s, their lips nipping easily at each other’s before they pulled apart again, the soft kiss coming to an end as Mickey eased down the bed a little bit, his arm returning to Ian’s waist as he tugged himself a little bit closer, once again pressing his face deep into his neck, drinking in the calming scent.

 

Ian felt as if his entire body was relaxing with Mickey’s touches. Calming down. He finally had his arms tightly wrapped around the right person. The one.

 

“In fact…” Ian whispered into the black hair all of five minutes later, half hoping that Mickey would already be asleep so that he wouldn’t hear him. “I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with you” At the words, Mickey’s breath stayed steady, his body not moving a single inch - all of it indicating that he was in fact asleep by now. After a minute or so, though, Ian felt a warm kiss being pressed to his jawline.

 

“You too, Gallagher”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm exhausted enough that the words are jumping around on the page so please excuse any mistakes. 
> 
> <3


	9. Baby, You're My Wild Card

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah, okay man” Mickey nodded when their eyes connected once again. “Yeah, I’m yours”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that I don't remember if I have told you guys about Wild Card by Hunter Hayes, if you don't know that song you shouldn't definitely take a listen. The acoustic version is the best! I actually didn't find it until after I started on this fic, but it fits quite perfectly, so. Or at least the lyrics do, I'm not too sure about the actual music.

Ian supposed that a part of him had assumed - or at least hoped - that when he woke up in the morning, Mickey would still be there. Beautiful plump face buried in his neck, short arms wrapped around his body, black hair spread out over his skin. Soft, perfect breaths fanning his collarbone. But of course, Ian had never been one of the lucky ones. Instead, when he cracked his eyes open he found himself in a cold bed, the sound of rain chattering against the window. The coming storm was casting dreary shadows over the small room and Ian couldn’t help but feel as if his heart sunk a little bit despite the fact that he had only been awake for approximately thirty seconds.

 

Last night had been amazing - beyond his wildest fucking dreams, in fact. Sure, the sex had been mindblowing as always, but that wasn’t what he was happy about exactly. No, of course he was happy about what happened afterwards. The kissing, the cuddling and the… confession of feelings? Yes, Ian realized the more he woke up from his deep, satisfied slumber. That couldn’t have been a dream. Mickey had really, truthfully opened up to him. He had even said that he… felt something for Ian.

 

After everything, of course Ian found it scary to hope too much. Based off of his experiences with Mickey’s mood swings in the past, it was very possible that he could completely blow him off today, even if he had promised that he wouldn’t. All Ian really wanted was to hold him, call Mickey his boyfriend and be done with all of these games, plays and all of the drama that had previously taken place in between the two of them.

 

Understandable, he assumed.

 

And sure, maybe some people would say that he should forget Mickey and go find somebody else if a stable boyfriend was what he was after - and it was. It was what he wanted, it was what he needed. But he only wanted it if that boyfriend was Mickey. He didn’t know why that was, why and when he had first become so fucking hung up on Mickey. But the point is that he was, and he couldn’t change that. And after seemingly such a long time - it felt like a long time, at least - of circling around each other, they were finally here. Somewhat, well… together?

 

They obviously hadn’t exactly made anything official, but Ian had told Mickey that he was falling in love with him, and he had reciprocated. So… Ian figured that he was somewhat on track assuming that they were at least on their way to becoming a couple?

 

Then again, the last thing he wanted was to imagine things, or get ahead of himself so he pretty quickly realized that he needed to find Mickey and make sure that he wasn’t back to being that rude asshole that Ian had first met.

 

As he pushed himself out of bed, the rain continued pounding down hard against the glass of the window, and Ian couldn’t help but think that it felt good. It sounded nice, and it calmed him down a little bit. He got dressed, still feeling that nice ache deep down in his bones that could only come from one thing. Soon enough, he was dressed in his boxers, and was left staring down at the sweat-soaked and tangled up shirt from last night. Either he could pick it up and put it on, or he could walk across the hallway in nothing but his boxers, to his own room and find a clean one. Neither of the options seemed all too appealing at the moment.

 

There was one more option, of course. But no matter how much Ian would like to feel or smell Mickey on him, he wasn’t all too sure whether walking down to the kitchen in his shirt would set him ahead in the game of making sure that he wouldn’t lash out. Then again, last night they had just about shared their ‘I love you’s, so Ian showing up in a shit that belonged to Mickey shouldn’t be too big of a deal, not if they were truly over this whole thing, as Mickey had promised last night.

 

Ian swallowed thickly, and then decided just to fucking go for it. If he wanted to make this whole thing with Mickey work, he had a feeling that he had be willing to stand up for himself a little bit more. Not let Mickey play with him or jerk him around. He opened one of the drawers in the old chest that Iggy had surely helped his brother drag up to this room at some point. And it didn’t take very long before he found a dark grey Metallica t shirt that he had seen Mickey wear once or twice. It was quite large on his frame, so it ended up fitting Ian good - albeit slightly snug of course, Ian’s body was overall a little bit bigger than Mickey’s.

 

Ian stopped for a second or two, just feeling the fabric hug his muscles. It felt good. And it smelled like comfort and happiness. It smelled like Mickey.

 

  
It was only about three minutes later that Ian entered the kitchen. The rain was still pouring down heavy, the drops slamming against the glass backdoor along with all of the windows of the house. They hadn’t had a storm like this in a long time. It was supposed to be daytime, but thanks to all of the dark clouds, it looked more like they were getting closer and closer to nightfall.

 

Right as Ian entered the room, he saw a lock of blue hair disappear out of it, heading towards the front door. Usually he had time to tell Mandy goodbye and maybe even talk to her for a few minutes before she had to go to work, so he assumed that he had slept in a little bit longer than he did normally. He hadn’t really had the time to take a look at the time.

 

Like always, Mickey was sitting by the kitchen island in a muscle tee and a pair of sweatpants, typing on his computer, a cup of coffee next to him, not acknowledging Ian in the least. Nothing really felt out of the ordinary - at all. Which worried Ian a little bit because he had honestly thought that things were going to be different. All of their roommates were either still asleep or already out of the house for work, so there was not really a reason for Mickey to ignore Ian. Maybe it was stupid of him to just stand in the doorway completely frozen, but Ian was nervous as fuck.

 

The last thing he wanted was for Mickey to lash out at him and shatter the perfectly dreamy illusion of a relationship that he had built for himself.

 

“I’m not gonna bit your fucking head off or some shit, man” Mickey turned his head, a small smirk dancing on the surface of his lips as their eyes connected. A small amount of last nights eyeliner was still smudged around Mickey’s, and Ian couldn’t help but get lost in it for a second. Fuck, if this wasn’t the most beautiful man he had ever laid eyes on in his entire life.

 

“Sorry. S - I was just um…” Ian stammered like a fucking idiot as Mickey slid off of the barstool, some invisible power or force of nature getting the taller man to take a few steps further into the kitchen, saving him from looking like a complete pussy.

 

“It’s alright” Mickey assured him, voice still rough from the sleep trudging throughout his veins. He was more than aware of what an asshole he had been to Ian in the past, even if he wouldn’t really admit it. He wasn’t there yet, not completely. Ian swallowed as they got even closer; Mickey’s hands landed on his chest, curling into fists and bringing the fabric of his t shirt with them, tugging Ian a little bit closer to him.

 

A smile took over Ian’s face as well, as soon as he realized that the Mickey he was waking up with today was the same one he had fallen asleep hugging close to his chest.

 

His stomach was tumbling violently, heart throbbing against his ribs - for once, though, his heart was beating fast for a good reason. It wasn’t fear, uncertainty or anything remotely scary. It was… happiness. Love, even.

 

Mickey got up onto his toes since Ian was quite bit taller than himself, and he tilted his neck upwards. Thankfully, Ian took the hint and dipped his head a little bit, letting the older man capture his lips in between his own for a good morning kiss, easily licking his way into his mouth. Ian let his right hand fall to the back of Mickey’s neck, his left arm wrapping around his waist to tug him even a little bit closer.

 

Ian could feel the cold metal of the ring punched through Mickey’s lip on the inside of his own, and although he didn’t quite understand why that was, he fucking loved the feeling. It felt like, well… it felt like Mickey.

 

A part of Ian knew now that he had found it. The thing that everybody in the entire world seemed to fucking obsessed with looking for. That one special person. The one that comes into your life and turns it upside down - but for the better. The one. Ian knew that nothing would ever feel better than this. He would never be able to hold anybody else again, kiss anybody else. Because quick as this whole thing may have gone, he couldn’t stop the strong feelings he had for this man, and he didn’t want to.

 

Mickey’s hands stayed curled into fists around the thin fabric of Ian’s t shirt as the kiss continued; maybe at first it had been meant to be a quick good morning kiss, but that couldn’t happen. They were both way too gone for each other at this point so when they started, they just couldn’t stop. Ian slowly let his left hand fold together around the black fabric at the small of Mickey’s back, pressing him a little bit closer to himself.

 

It still blew him away - how this short and angry, tattoo covered punk guy could be so soft and sweet whenever he wanted to. The kiss wasn’t passion and teeth, not this early in the morning. It was lips and tongues. Love. The tips of Ian’s fingers slipped into the black strands of hair on the back of Mickey’s neck, his thumb resting safely on his jawline as they broke the kiss for a second, only to turn their heads and go in for more.

 

There was not one single thought inside of Ian’s head save for the feeling of Mickey’s lips on his and how he never wanted to be away from this. Somehow they both ended up backing up a little bit, and soon the small of Mickey’s back was pressed against the kitchen island, both of Ian’s hands moved to his neck, thumbs resting on his chin as their eyes stayed closed, tongues surely sliding over each other in the best possible way.

 

Eventually, after surely the better part of five minutes or so, the kiss broke; their hands staying on each other as their eyes slowly slid open to connect with each other’s. Their lips were slightly swollen, stomachs tingling, throats somewhat dry with the intensity of the feelings in between them. Mickey’s hands loosened somewhat around the shirt on Ian’s body, but still stayed in place. Ian couldn’t help but move his thumbs in smooth circles, feeling the ever so slight and barely visible stubble covering Mickey’s chin.

 

Their relationship had always been confusing, uncertain and full speed ahead. It felt strange just kissing good morning and taking the time to stare into each other’s eyes. It was a good kind of strange, though; Ian had to admit that. Of course it was.

 

“You are so fucking beautiful” Ian hadn’t been aware of the thought before the words were out of his mouth, but now he couldn’t take it back - he didn’t want to either. He didn’t see a reason to. It was the truth, even if ‘beautiful’ might not be a word that most people would associate a short, angry punk man with, Ian did. Mickey was fucking beautiful, there was no better term to describe his looks.

 

A part of him believed that the statement might end up scaring Mickey away - send him right back into that dark hole where he cursed Ian out and ran out of the room without anything but an insult thrown his way. But then he realized that Mickey wasn’t running.

 

Maybe things had truly changed in between them, because Mickey only continued blinking up into the green eyes, his fists staying on Ian’s chest, his lips slightly parted. He looked sort of surprised at the words that had just escaped Ian’s mouth. Not really offended or even confused, but just… surprised. He didn’t say anything in acknowledgement, though. And he didn’t need to either. Instead a small smile spread its way across his lips as he shifted his gaze down to Ian’s chest, his brows furrowing a little bit, exposing some of the frown lines in his forehead.

 

“This my shirt?” Mickey asked, fingers loosening a little bit more around the dark fabric. Ian swallowed, dipping his head a little bit, looking down at the clothing piece.

 

“Yeah, um…” He spoke uncomfortably, once again a little bit nervous about how Mickey would react. He guessed that it would take a little whole before he would be completely rid of the fear that the older man would snap right back into pitbull mode. Then again, his hands stayed placed on his chest, body relaxed in his arms, so he guessed that that was not what was currently going on. “Mine was all sweaty from last night, so…” Ian explained as both of them looked up, eye contact once again being established in between them.

 

A small smile was still present on Mickey’s face, the lines leaving his forehead as he curled his hands back into tight fists, tugging at the fabric to bring Ian even closer to him despite the fact that that was all but impossible; they were already pressed together, faces a few inches apart.

 

“It’s sexy” Mickey spoke, breath fanning Ian’s lips. Ian hummed, letting his own lips carry a smirk. His stomach was tumbling just as it always had around Mickey, but now he knew what the reason was, so it wasn’t as scary anymore. In the beginning, he had thought that he was terrified - which he had been to a degree of course - but now he knew that the main reason why his stomach fluttered around Mickey was because he was… well… Mickey. Because he was Mickey. Ian didn’t know how to explain it, and maybe that was part of the magic.

 

“Yeah?” Ian teased, lowering his face a little bit closer to Mickey’s, their eyes still gazing into one another’s as they thirsted to press their mouths back together. Mickey hummed lowly and parted his lips a little bit, stretching his neck upwards, chasing after Ian’s; Ian pulled away, though, just enough that the kiss didn’t happen. Mickey frowned, sinking back down flat onto his feet.

 

Ian’s right hand stayed on the side of his neck, his left one dropping to the counter so that he could hover over him, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. He was well aware of the fact that him asking the question might just end up blowing everything, but he couldn’t help it. After the struggle, the confusion that they had gone through to get to the point where they kissed good morning, he just had to know.

 

There was no other way.

 

The green eyes stayed deep into the blue ones, and Mickey kept his mouth shut, understanding that Ian was building up the courage to say something. His hands loosened around his shirt, dropping to Ian’s waist instead; Ian could feel the sparks of his touch even through the thin fabric, and it finally pushed the question out from in between his lips.

 

“This is it now, right Mick? Just…you and me? You’re mine?” It sounded cheesy as fuck, but Ian wanted Mickey to be his boyfriend, now and for as long as he possibly could be. Hopefully the title would change into husband rather than ex boyfriend - not that Ian wanted to be close to either of those titles for a long time. Then again, Ian had a feeling that maybe Mickey wasn’t the kind of guy who would want to put a label on their relationship, but he had to try. Because he did.

 

“‘M not anyone’s, Gallagher” Mickey mumbled, voice slightly dark as he blinked up at Ian, the blue and bright eyes not quite matching with his voice. His hands stayed placed onto Ian’s body, though, and for some reason Ian realized that he wasn’t blowing him off. Even after knowing this man for such a short amount of time, he could tell that he was scared rather than hostile. Uncertain, maybe and not used to guys being kind to him.

 

The only thing that Ian could think to do was to give him a small, tiny and sweet push in the right direction. Mickey continued looking up at him, somehow under fringe despite the fact that he didn’t have any. The taller man lowered his face a little bit, both pairs of eyes slipping closed as he covered his lips with his own. Mickey easily leaned into the sweet kiss, tongues just barely having the time to play a part before Ian broke it again, though keeping their lips hovering incredibly near each other, eyes closed.

 

“I think you’re mine a little bit” Ian lifted his face again, both pairs of eyes slipping open once again, gazes connecting. Careful green eyes meeting wondering blue. “I’m yours” Ian promised then, dropping a soft kiss to Mickey’s jawline right by his right ear. As much as he noticed the tattooed man attempt to fight it, his face broke out into a smile as the sweet gesture; and it surely would have made him even more beautiful than before - had it been possible of course.

 

“Yeah, okay man” Mickey nodded when their eyes connected once again. “Yeah, I’m yours” Ian’s grin was visible for all of two seconds before he surged in for a deep and passionate kiss, his tongue deep inside of Mickey’s mouth, wanting to taste him, wanting to feel everything. Mickey’s hands curled back into fists on Ian’s waist right as Ian moved his down to his boyfriend’s thighs, easily heaving him up onto the kitchen island.

 

Mickey pushed any and all thoughts out of his head and instead wrapped his legs tightly around Ian’s waist, tugging him even a little bit closer, their happy kiss continuing with the wonderful rain as perfect background noise.

 

“You two?!” Mandy’s surprised and happy voice tore them apart - well, their mouths - their limbs stayed wrapped around each other, not at all ready to let go. Their heads turned to see Mickey’s sister holding her wallet that she had surely forgotten and walked back to the house to get. Ian was a little bit scared that Mandy finding out about them would make Mickey take those three giant steps back. Instead, though, his legs stayed wrapped around his boyfriend’s torso.

 

“Yeah. You want to leave us alone for a bit?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Alright. I’m late anyway” Mandy answered her brother immediately; she didn’t have the time to stay and ask questions, she would do that later.

 

As soon as the door slammed behind her, Mickey and Ian turned their heads back to look at each other. They didn’t say anything, instead their mouths slowly formed into smiles right before Mickey tugged his boyfriend back in for another perfect kiss, both of them happier than they had ever been in the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, we only have the epilogue left oh my god!
> 
> <3


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian was incredibly thankful that he had been the one with the magic key to Mickey’s heart.

**Six months later**

  
Ian swallowed, his gaze lazily focused on the random slasher movie that was currently covering the television screen, admitting a flickering light that shone through the darkness of the livingroom. His head was resting on the armrest of the large couch, the comforting weight of his boyfriend covering his chest, his cheek pressed against Ian’s collarbone. The house was almost completely silent by now, save for the slight murmur of the movie. All of their roommates were wither working or sleeping by now, leaving the couple to do whatever they wanted. The truth was that since they had gotten together, the road of their relationship had actually gone pretty smoothly - sure, Ian and Mickey were both incredibly stubborn and strong willed individuals, so they fought quite a bit, especially in the beginning when they hadn’t really known each other as well as they do now.

 

Still, they were both safer and happier in this relationship than either of them had ever been or felt before. They loved and they laughed, neither of them would ever give the other up for anything.

 

Ian’s arms were safely wrapped around Mickey’s body, keeping him close, his thumb drawing soft, absentminded circles on his shoulder as they both felt sleep start to sink into their veins, their eyelids growing slightly heavier by the minute. Mickey’s soft breath was fanning Ian’s neck, calming his entire being; he loved listening to his breathing, feeling his heart beat. Whether that was creepy or not, he supposed could be discussed, but it felt nice. Like every single little act reminded him that this wasn’t a dream; reminded him that they were really together, that he really had Mickey and that Mickey really wanted him.

 

Ian would never try to deny the fact that Mickey had been a complete asshole when they had first met - he had been - and he knew that Mickey would never try to go against that fact either. But with every single day that passed, Ian thought that he understood Mickey Milkovich more and more, and though he had been a douchebag when they had met, Ian knew that that was just a defence mechanism - a rough one, but still. But now, the more they got to know each other, the further into the vast distance, that guy disappeared and left was this soft, loving man who woke Ian up by pressing kisses to his nose and who held his hand whenever they were in public.

 

Despite his incredibly harsh exterior - which Ian still found incredibly sexy, by the way - Mickey was the sweetest man that Ian had ever met. Though he didn’t believe that he had changed, really; from what he had gathered, he was fairly certain that that guy had always been inside of Mickey, he just hadn’t felt comfortable or happy enough to let him through. Ian was incredibly thankful that he had been the one with the magic key to Mickey’s heart.

 

Ian felt Mickey swallow before his head was lifted off of his chest, blue eyes looking down into his own. Neither of them said anything, really, but Ian could immediately feel his stomach start to turn in that wonderful way that it always did whenever he looked at Mickey - whenever Mickey looked at him. Ian didn’t know why Mickey had fallen for him, and the truth was that Ian wasn’t sure why he had fallen for Mickey either - since he fell for him way before he knew that this sweeter guy was a part of him. But he was so fucking happy that the two of them had somehow, by some kind of miracle, managed to find each other. He didn’t even want to think about what his life would look like right now if he hadn’t found Mickey. He would probably be healthy, but happy? That was another story. The truth was that he would probably be quite lonely.

 

Mickey’s tongue darted out to swipe across his bottom lip as he brought his right hand up to the side of his boyfriend’s face, fingertips slipping into the red hair as the television screen continued flickering throughout the room, neither of the en paying any kind of attention to it right now. They were way too caught up in each other, just as they were most hours of the day. Six - almost seven - months into and their relationship, and they were still somehow in that sweet honeymoon stage - maybe they always would be. Maybe that was just who they were.

 

The pad of Mickey’s thumb rested softly on Ian’s chin, Ian’s fingers continuing to draw smooth circles over the ink clad skin, calming both of them down, soft breaths escaping them both. Mickey’s fingers curled ever so slightly into the soft strands of hair as he dipped his head a little bit, easily pressing their lips together, peace settling throughout their veins. Ian hummed in appreciation, both pairs of eyes slipping closed, a wonderful fluttering sensation appearing in the base of his stomach - one he knew all too well by now. Their tongues slipped together, sliding easily over one another as they kissed lazily, both men overwhelmed with the love they carried around for the other one, amazed at how strong their feelings were and how neither of them ever would have been able to see it coming.

 

Mickey pressed one last, deep kiss to his boyfriend’s lips before breaking the act, both pairs of eyes slowly slipping open to connect with each other again. Ian swallowed, his heart banging violently against his ribcage, just like it used to when he first met Mickey. Only nowadays it wasn’t scary anymore, because he knew the reason why his body acted the way it did in the presence of Mickey. It wasn’t fear, it wasn’t danger. It was love. Pure, unadulterated and completely wonderful never-give-up-on-each-other kind of love.

 

“I’ve been thinking about something” Ian mumbled, sliding his hand from Mickey’s shoulder up to his neck, gently caressing the skin with the tips of his fingers, a few of the black strands of hair slipping in between his digits as he looked up into the bright blue, blackrimmed eyes. Mickey swallowed, tilting his head slightly to the side in question as he waited for his boyfriend to continue. “What would you think about moving out? Getting a place together?” The younger man asked the question that had been on the tip of his tongue for surely a couple of weeks now.

 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy living in this house with Iggy, Mandy and all of their other friends - he was. They were all great people. But lately he had started thinking a little bit; he and Mickey were both in their twenties by now, and while it wasn’t old at all, they were more than old enough to make grown up decisions like finding an apartment together. It would be nice, Ian thought.

 

To be able to just come home and not have to worry about who would or wouldn’t be up; to be able to fuck however loudly they wanted without fearing that they would end up getting complaints at all. He wanted to be able to fuck Mickey on every single surface possible - without having to worry about anybody finding out - and he wanted to cuddle him in the kitchen without them getting teased for it. All of their roommates were accepting of their relationship, of course, but childish teasing or not - Ian could do without it.

 

There were quite a lot of reasons as to why he wanted to have his own apartment together with Mickey. And ever since he had quit his job at the club - his little angry boyfriend was a little bit too jealous of other men drooling over him - and started working at the diner, he was actually making more of a steady paycheque, so it made sense to do this now, if they were ever going to.

 

Mickey’s dark eyebrows knitted together a little bit as he searched the green eyes; the truth was that moving out hadn’t even once crossed his mind - with or without Ian. And he wasn’t all too sure what he thought of the idea right off the bat. He supposed that on a lot of levels, it did make sense. He and Ian were in love, they were adults, and they both wanted a future together.

 

But on the other hand, he had lived in this house for a long time - and he had always lived in the same house as his siblings. Somehow moving out seemed like a huge fucking step for him - maybe bigger than it should feel. Mickey was well aware of the fact that Ian would never pressure him into anything that he wasn’t ready for, no matter what it was - that wasn’t the kind of person he was. Then again, he also knew that if they did end up moving out together, it was surely something that he wouldn’t end up regretting, even if it did seem like a huge thing at this point.

 

Ian stayed silent, his fingertips continuing to rub smooth circles on the back of his boyfriend’s neck as he let Mickey turn his question over and around in his head, surely trying to come up with a good response. He didn’t say that Mickey could take some time to think about it, and he didn’t say that they could wait or try to assure him that he would never try to push him into a corner. Ian didn’t say any of that, because he didn’t have to. Mickey knew. The blue eyes drifted down from the green ones, landing on Ian’s pronounces collarbone, though his head wasn’t really there. Mickey was still caught up in his own head, doing his best to figure out what exactly he should say - trying to figure out what he wanted.

 

Finally, he seemed as if he snapped out of it, and he dropped a soft kiss to his boyfriend’s chin before their eyes connected again, Ian patiently waiting for an answer.

 

“Give me some more time to think about it, alright? But um… it sounds pretty good” At the words, Ian’s mouth was pulled into a grin and he tightened his hold around his boyfriend’s neck, tugging him down to meet him in another loving kiss.

 

  
***

 

  
“Why the fuck do I have to carry all of this shit and you don’t have to carry nothing?” Mickey complained as he picked up three moving boxes all at once, ignoring the way his arms were already starting to scream at him - he should really get back into working out at some point, he was losing muscle. It wasn’t to the point where you could see it, but he certainly felt it. Ian grinned, using the tape gun to run a long strip of tape over one of he last few boxes, successfully closing it up before he got back up onto his feet, walking over to Mickey and pressing a wet, loving kiss to his temple, the act incredibly successful in softening his boyfriend up.

 

“Because you’re my big strong man who can do anything” Ian spoke against the skin, his hand curling around Mickey’s hip, tugging him a little bit closer, though making sure that he wasn’t doing it too roughly so that his boyfriend would end up dropping the boxes; that would be incredibly unfortunate for both of them. Mickey hummed, turning his head, silently asking for a kiss which Ian gladly gave him, their lips easily slipping in between each other for a second before they split again. “Also, I’m the one packing” Ian reminded him, making the older man roll his eyes and press one last quick kiss to his boyfriends lips before exiting the room, Ian cheekily slapping his ass on his way out, happy grins etched into both of their faces.

 

It had been almost two months since Ian had first asked Mickey whether he was in on the idea to get a place of their own; it had taken about a week before the older man had finally decided, and then it had proved to be a little bit difficult to find an apartment in their price range that they both liked, but finally here they were, and neither of them could honestly be more ecstatic to be moving in together. Sure, they had already been living in the same house for almost an entire year - and they had shared a bed for quite a long time now as well. But they both felt as if it would be different actually having a place all to themselves. Their own kitchen, their own bathroom, their own couch, their own fucking floor and their own roof over their heads - without having to share any of it with anyone but each other.

 

Eight or nine months ago, Ian never would have been able to dream that he would be here now - that he would be in a loving, committed relationship with Mickey, but less be moving in with him… or out? Either way, at this point, he was more at peace with his life than he had ever been in the past and he had nobody to thank but his boyfriend. After he had gotten diagnosed with bipolar disorder, Ian had been convince that nobody would ever be able to love him, that nobody would be brave enough to put up with all of that - fuck, he hadn’t even loved himself at that point, he hadn’t been very willing to put up with himself, so how was he supposed to believe that somebody else ever would?

 

Mickey was the one who had proved him wrong. Sure - Ian had been well on his feet before he had fallen in love with him, he would never allow somebody else to save him or put his happiness in somebody else’s hands, that wasn’t the kind of man that he was or that kind of person that he wished to be. But in a way, Mickey was the one who had glued the last few pieces of him back together. When he had found out that Ian was sick, all he had said was ‘ _Oh. Well, if shit hits the fan, we’ll deal with it, man. I promise. Not leaving you’._

 

Ian had been so fucking surprised at how he somehow managed to shake it off, yet let Ian know that he cared somehow all wrapped up into one. Although they were both young, and despite the fact that Ian really hadn’t had many serious relationships in the past - or relationships at all, for that matter - he knew that Mickey was the one. The way he talked, the way he walked. The way Ian’s stomach turned in the best possible way whenever they touched, even if it was only a brush of their fingers. There was no possibly way in hell that Mickey was anything less than the perfect man for Ian - his soulmate, and ‘the one’ as cheesy as it may sound. He was so fucking happy to be starting a life with him, starting with an apartment of their own. Things were going to be just fine. More than it.

 

  
They spent the rest of that day packing and carrying boxes, driving back and forth from the house to the apartment because Ian’s car wasn’t nearly large enough to fit all of their crap in one go. Mandy and Iggy helped a little bit once in a while, but they were both too lazy to dedicate their entire day to helping Ian and Mickey move, they could ‘ _damn fucking well do that shit themselves_ ’ and yes, that was a direct quote from Mandy.

 

  
As the clock ticked closer and closer to six, Mickey and Ian were outside on the driveway, putting the very last few boxes and bags into the younger man’s car, both of them starting to get incredibly tired from all of the moving and lifting and talking that had been done today. Both of their rooms were completely emptied out by now, save for Ian’s bed because they had decided to bring Mickey’s to their new apartment as it was a little bit bigger. Clothes, drawings, computers, phones, sheets - everything - was with them, and they were currently looking through their pockets and bags, making sure that they wouldn’t end up forgetting anything - granted they weren’t moving very far away, and they would probably end up spending quite a large amount of time in this house anyway, but it would still suck to have to drive back just because they forgot the charger for Mickey’s phone or some stupid shit like that.

 

“You guys all set?” Mandy came walking out of the house, her long, nowadays bleach blonde - white, in fact - hair tied up in a ponytail at the back of her head, the long, silky looking strands hanging down over her right shoulder as she walked up towards her brother and her best friend. Ian pushed the last few boxes into the backseat as Mickey turned to her, nodding.

 

“Yeah, we’re good” Mandy nodded, her lips squeezing together into a thin line - a sure telltale sign that she was doing her best to keep herself from saying something. Mickey knitted his eyebrows together. “What?” A loud sigh escaped his sister’s nose, the edges of her mouth now pulling upwards into some kind of a sad smile.

 

“We’ve never lived apart before” She stated, and after over two decades of knowing each other, Mickey could easily translate the words into ‘ _I’m really going to miss you, alright? I’m not sure how I’m going to do this_ ’. Mickey swallowed, his head moving slowly up and down a couple of times. ‘ _Yeah, me neither_ ’.

 

“It’s fifteen minutes away, Mands” Mickey reminded her, not quite sure who he was trying to convince that this wasn’t a big deal - it was. The girl shrugged, swallowing as she stepped forwards, wrapping her arms around her brother, not giving a shit that they liked to pretend that they despised each other - they loved each other more than anything, and though they didn’t say it, they were both well aware of that fact. Mickey immediately returned the hug, and Ian smiled, leaning back against the car as he watched the goodbye.

 

“You take good fucking care of my brother, you hear me?” Mandy told the younger man as she let go of Mickey; Ian nodded, that kind smile stuck on his lips.

 

“You know I will” He nodded before they hugged as well.

 

All three of them said goodbye a few more times than what was maybe necessary, and then Ian and Mickey got into the car, both of them swallowing their nervousness down.

 

Ian had one hand on the wheel, reaching to grab a hold of Mickey’s with his other one as they looked out over the street ahead of them.

 

“Are you ready?” Mickey nodded in response, squeezing his boyfriend’s fingers in between his own.

 

“I’m ready” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, it's over! I'm not going to pretend that writing this has been some huge journey or some shit, because it's honestly such a little fic compared to some of my other ones and I've barely spent any time on it. Still, I loved writing this and I'm sad it's completed. I really hope that you guys have liked this and that you'll stick with me through the many, many other fics that I have yet to write! 
> 
> Both LVER and my big bang entry are also slowly coming to an end, and it makes me sad. But at the same time I have at least four ideas for new multi chaps that I am so excited to start, so I'm not going anywhere. 
> 
> <3


End file.
